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Uwharrie Chair 7012-042-RSF Wave Rocking Chair Tractor Red
- Built with recyclable and sustainable materials
- Combines traditional rocker comfort with the iconic Wave back
- Constructed by hand for premium fit and finish
- Reviews
- Description
- Specifications
- Benefits
Attention: Image may not reflect actual color. Please refer to swatch and description. May be subject to delayed shipping due to hand-crafted production.
Uwharrie Chair 7012-042-RSF Wave Rocking Chair Tractor Red grabs attention while letting you rest comfortably.
Detailed Craftsmanship
Uwharrie Chair Co builds each piece of furniture here in the U.S.A. To ensure superior construction and attention to detail. Each piece is inspected to ensure that it exceeds Uwharrie's already rigid quality standards.
Comfort and Luxury
Prioritizing comfort as well as luxury, the Wave rocking chair combines both for an exceptional product. The recognizable Wave backing will attract attention while you lounge.
Made to be Enjoyed
Leisure outdoor furniture shouldn't require any extra maintenance. Luckily, Uwharrie products require zero maintenance in order for them to look great and always perform.
Lifetime Warranty
Warrantied against cracking, splitting, warping, water damage and more for life. Your investment is assured to last.
Guaranteed Satisfaction.
- Up To 30 days to return your purchase
- Money back guaranteed
- Free return shipping
- No restocking fees
- Model: 7012-042-RSF
- Product Type: Wave Rocking Chair Tractor Red Right Side Facing
- Product Dimensions: L: 35.00" x W: 33.00" x H: 44.00"
- Product Weight: 65.00 lbs.
- Product Color: Tractor Red
- Application: Luxury and leisure that is warrantied for life.
- Warranty: Limited lifetime warranty
- Furniture Use: Outdoor
- Furniture Type: Seating , Chair
- Furniture Set: No
- Finish: Red
- Construction: Wood
- Assembly Required: No
- Weather Resistant: Yes
- UV Protected: No
- Built with recyclable and sustainable materials
- Combines traditional rocker comfort with the iconic Wave back
- Constructed by hand for premium fit and finish
- Designed to withstand every season and weather
- Made in America
- Protected with a limited lifetime warranty against water damage, chipping, rotting and more


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The secret to making this most elegant soup is clarifying the stock to ensure all traces of impurities are removed through gentle simmering and careful straining.
A softly scented essence simultaneously bold and shy in flavour, consommé - which literally means to consummate or finish - begins life simply as water and bones or vegetables. It's infused gently and developed into a clear broth or stock, or, as it's referred to in some restaurants, an essence or tea.
The foundation of great consommé is a great stock. A careful choice of ingredients and slow, gentle cooking are key to producing a clear, highly flavoured stock. Cooking time varies, depending on the vegetable or size of bones used. A vegetable stock (tomato or mushroom are best suited to consommés) only requires about 30 minutes to extract the purest flavour from the vegetables. In comparison, a stock made with venison, beef or veal bones needs at least six hours to draw out as much flavour as possible. Fish, chicken and some game with smaller bones fall in between. To add depth of flavour and colour, roast bones (with the exception of fish) prior to simmering. Strain and refrigerate the stock until it is well chilled.
If at this stage you have a perfectly clear and highly flavoured broth, you have what is known as a single consommé. However, it's most likely you'll need a second stage of clarification and flavour boost, which is then called a double consommé.
A mixture consisting of finely minced ingredients and eggwhite is whisked vigorously into the broth and cooked over a low heat so that the protein from the meat and eggwhite coagulates, catches small impurities and rises to the surface to create what is known as the 'raft'. The flavour of your original stock will dictate the flavourings of the raft. So, to clarify a beef stock, you'd use minced beef. Clearly in an extravagant frame of mind, famed French chef August Escoffier suggested using pounded caviar in one of his fish consommés.
Contrary to popular belief, stirring is important when heating to ensure the raft is evenly distributed throughout the stock and doesn't catch on the base of the pan - this is only necessary to begin with, how-ever, so when it comes to a simmer, leave it alone. Make a small hole in the top of the raft for pressure to be released and let it do its own thing over a very low heat (it's important once the eggwhite mixture coagulates it simmers very gently). After 30 minutes to an hour, you should have clarity. Strain through a muslin-lined sieve carefully and slowly from the top, being mindful not to disturb the raft.
Old-school decorations of gold leaf, julienne vegetables, mousselines and concassé were typical garnishes for the consommé, but today you might see more modern executions such as dumplings, fresh seafood and sago pearls. A consommé of beef, when chilled, produces a lip-sticky gelatinous quality that's particularly good with a splash of vodka, a dash of Tabasco and a squeeze of lemon, a drink known as a Bullshot. As for soup etiquette, consommé may be drunk directly from a soup bowl that has handles and no spoon. So, serve your consommé straight-up and enjoy the pure essence of flavour.

subset: commoncrawl


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I also completed another custom order. In this one, I used colors similar to a supplied photo:
You can see the original bedding image in my previous post.
Two more custom orders to go plus a new one that came in today...
I received a message from a very nice customer in Maine. I've worked with her on several blankets. She asked if I could create something for a friend's child who has just been diagnosed with cancer. He is one year old. It breaks my heart to think of a little child with such an awful disease. I tried to think of something special and came up with this schematic:
This is a rough draft, so I'll be tweaking as I go, but I hope I can bring it to life! I tried to think of something that might brighten a one year old's day. If you have any other suggestions, I'm open to them! Hope everyone is having a bright and cheery day as well :)


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The Guidance Department would like to welcome everyone back from the summer break. Our team of Mr. Idone, Mrs. Labute and Mrs. Martel, are inviting you to come visit if you have any questions or concerns. The office will be open before and after school, and also during lunch. Please stop by to say hello. You can also schedule an appointment at these times. Hoping you have a wonderful year!! All the best Assumption Purple Raiders 🙂
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Hi everyone. I'm participating in a small flea market/craft fair on the 7th. I've been doing henna on myself and friends since about 2006. It's not been something I've done for money, I did do henna on about 8 girls at my cousins baby shower a year ago... That's pretty much my experience with doing it as a merchant. I love henna- how it looks, what it means... The application process is something I very much enjoy. I'm wondering what I should charge. This is my first real vendor experience. What size henna should cost what? Please take into consideration that this is my first time as a henna vendor. Thanks in advance. -Jess
First time henna art vendor
7 posts / 0 new
Fri, 2013-08-30 19:28#1
First time henna art vendor
Sun, 2013-09-01 11:19#2
Re: First time henna art vendor
Jess, this is hard to answer because it really depends on your location, and how much you spend on your vending space. For most artists the smallest designs bottom out at $5 each. Prices are higher on the costs and in urban areas than in the midwest or plains or in rural areas. Also, where booth fees are high, you'll need higher prices to cover your costs. On top of all that, your prices should in some way reflect your skill level. If your work is amazing you should be charging more than if your work is average. Maybe I can be of more help if you tell me where you are, what you're paying for your booth, and what you're skill level is.
Sun, 2013-09-01 16:58#3
Re: First time henna art vendor
Hi Jen. Thanks for responding. I'm in Long Island (ny) the flea market is in a church parking lot...the space cost 35$. My skill level... Well that, I'm not sure of. I have a very steady hand. My free hand designs are very good... I'm afraid that my application of something someone would pick from traditional designs that I would have to copy from is average.... I'd like to keep the designs simple. I guess I'd put myself definitely above average but not expert.
Sun, 2013-09-01 17:36#4
Re: First time henna art vendor
OK! This helps. At an inexpensive flea market, I would bring designs priced at $5-$25 that take no more than 10 minutes to do. The $5 should be simple things like a flower with a flourish, kanji, astrology signs, etc. that you can do in 2 minutes or less. The top end should be full hands with a little on the wrist too. Since this is your first time out, be prepared to change the pricing for next time! If you have a line all the way around your table all day, your prices are too low! If you have very few customers, the prices are too high, or the venue is simply not right for you.
Mon, 2013-09-02 12:33#5
Re: First time henna art vendor
Thanks so much! That info is really very helpful. I'm glad it's a little venue. I get to put my skills to the test and get a small scale feel of what it's like to be a henna vendor. Thanks again for the feedback. Hopefully this weekend be fun! -Jess
Tue, 2013-09-03 05:58#6
Re: First time henna art vendor
Good luck, and make sure to post about how it goes!
Tue, 2013-09-03 15:01#7
Re: First time henna art vendor
I definitely will!


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Published: Wed, 07 Mar 2018
Nicolene Ltd v Simmonds [1953] 1 QB 543
Contract – Vagueness – Enforceability – Uncertainty
Nicolene Ltd ordered 3,000 tonnes of steel bars from Simmonds. The two parties had never done business before. The written agreement between the parties provided that the 'usual conditions of acceptance' applied. There were no 'usual conditions of acceptance'. After Simmonds failed to perform delivery of the ordered steel bars, Nicolene sued for breach of contract. Simmonds argued that there was no agreement, because the contract was vague and uncertain, because there were not any 'usual conditions of acceptance' on which the contract could be formed.
Did the inclusion of the phrase that the contract was to be on the 'usual conditions of acceptance' render the contract unenforceable? Whether or not the agreement was void because its terms were too uncertain to be capable of being upheld by a court.
The contract did not fail for uncertainty or vagueness. The phrase 'usual conditions of acceptance' was a meaningless phrase because there were no usual conditions of acceptance but could be severed from the rest of the agreement. The essential terms of the agreement itself were identifiable and could be upheld by the court. In situations like this the courts should try and give effect to the parties' intentions and the terms of the agreement are to be upheld if they can be found and given effect to. For a contract to fail for uncertainty the meaningless or vague phrase must relate to a significant aspect of the agreement itself, without which there could not be a proper agreement that could be upheld by the courts.
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Solly's Girl is available from
- The Avenue Bookstore, Elsternwick
- The Grumpy Swimmer, Elwood
- Readings (Australia wide)
- Lamm Jewish Library of Australia
- or direct from the author.
Solly's Girl is available from
Facebook and me, it's an uneasy relationship. Well, it's uneasy for me. How can one tell what Facebook feels about anything? I think 'social media' is a meaningless phrase: my children and grandchildren tell me otherwise, but being social with a keyboard and screen has limitations. I write 'stuff' and my late husband, Alan, he also wrote 'stuff'. How clumsy is that sentence! Communication has changed so much. 'Dear Sir or Madam' is no way to start a modern letter. I'm old-fashioned; I respect apostrophes. As a 'ten-pound Pom' I have affection for W. S. Gilbert (please note that I've included the full stops). His 'little list' of pet aversions in 'The Mikado' is a favourite and can always be adapted by those of us having a hangover or a bad hair day.
Let me dispense with Instagram and Twitter first. If I want to send pictures to my nearest and dearest I'll attach them to an email; I really don't need yet another 'account' on account of my absolute aversion to signing up for any kind of account. As for Twitter – let's just leave that for the birds, they do it so much better.
I'm not a complete Luddite. Email entrances me because if offers the opportunity of a 'long form' letter with news, pictures, meditation, reflection, argument – and kindness. It's sad to receive a one-word response from a child or grandchild to some well-crafted email that I've sweated over for hours: 'right', 'ok', 'good, Mum', 'will do' etc. are simply signs of our times – but depressing.
Now to Facebook. So many academics are examining this juggernaut and its effects on our minds, souls, brains, emotional states – there's no need in the world for me to add to it. Better we smile.
Gilbert writes scathingly of the 'lady novelist' and of course he's being a man of his times and very sexist. But oh how I cringe at our current writers who gush so fulsomely about their gratitude to editors, booksellers, publishers, et al. True enough, I've thanked a few people for being kind about my memoir Solly's Girl but how many backs can be mutually scratched? Where's the dignity?
The passionate political posts for the most part leave me unmoved. The ones I seem to see are either about corruption, the most recent terrorist attacks and which country's turn it is to have a coup. Why unmoved? Well, there's not much I can do. The time when I was young enough to carry a banner for my union or march in protest against an unjust war are long gone. For most of the writers (not all) the matters they raise seem to them like new injustices to be righted, new problems to be solved, new disasters to be prevented. But I am older and in one guise or another these issues have all arisen before and before and before. Once in a while a charismatic figure emerges in our society, someone to galvanize a government to act but for the most part I am deaf to these passionate posters. Of course I do preserve the other posters – Che Guervara ('Revolucion') and Lord Kitchener ('Your country needs YOU') – some political history will always stir my emotions.
The causes, the cries for justice, justice, justice. It's rather like the welter of requests for donations that come by old-fashioned mail. The pitiful stories, the desperate need, the terrible government inaction over this or that injustice. Giving is good, I know, but I can't see the value in promoting guilt. I have a (sometimes leaky) roof over my head and so far I can pay my way at the grocer. In order that others may have help without humiliation I'd willingly pay the tax to support a more equal society. I always thought that my greatest contribution is my vote. Is Facebook any kind of help?
The substitute postcards! Who can blame the 'friends' that post all those pictures 'by the beach', 'having breakfast', or 'on top of the mountain'. Postage rates world-wide are horrendous and the savings are considerable. But they are indeed impersonal; no-one really sat down at some rickety table in a square in Uzbekistan to write to me – yes, me – to tell me that the coffee is terrible but the sights are wonderful. The real postcard arrives weeks after my real friends have returned home, but I keep it; the Facebook pictures are long gone.
The grandchildren! Ah, here I am certainly on very shaky ground. I look at very old photograph albums, pictures taken on film, processed in some laboratory, stuck onto the cardboard page and kept in place with those little corner triangles and with a caption in ink underneath, 'Merimbula, 1960' or, in the case of our family archives, 'Regent's Park, 1924'. I could have all thirty-three albums digitised, even on a DVD that we might play through the television; how would it compare? My father, Solly (of Solly's Girl) actually posed Sadie (my mother) and me for the Box Brownie, handled those old prints, wrote the captions. It's a hard call, history versus hard disc.
Business is business. Selling one's product on Facebook is probably a great idea. As an old advertising hand, married to Alan who also made a living in this dubious area, I can see how potent a medium this can be. It's a challenge though to grab my interest. In a perverse sort of way Facebook has promoted discrimination. The ads are simply everywhere so I've learned to ignore the lot.
* * * *
I'm glad that's off my chest! Now I must really come to grips with this mystery of modern times, the fantasy-land of Facebook. What do I want from this – if anything?
I like to write. Solly's Girl: a memoir was an important event for me and I am happy that readers are responsive. There have been some particularly pleasing occasions and comments. My favourite has to be the woman who came to my door bearing a thank you card, a jar of home-made liqueured cumquats and another of plum sauce: I'd never met her but she wanted me to know how much she liked my book. Of course, I could have made a great Facebook post out of that but the idea appalled me.
Facebook can be a pointer for me – a yellow brick road to something much more important than pictures of my garden (which is pretty) or my grandchildren (who are adorable as are all grandchildren) or my breakfast (which is nothing startling). This blog is where my reflections will appear and Facebook can provide a guide. Follow the arrow and enjoy!
My mother Sadie had only two coats, the black everyday one and her 'best' blue coat with the fur collar. My father, Solly, being a tailor, made all our clothes. I must have been almost twenty before I felt brave enough to buy 'ready-made' and take it home for him to make a critical assessment.
We weren't well off. Sadie's fur collar was very small but it had once been a real little fox: his tiny face sat on her shoulder and his soft tail swept across her neck. She was a very shy modest woman and didn't put on airs and graces but in the 1930s her best coat meant a lot to her in the icy British winters.
*** *** ***
By the 1950s I was working. I had my own money and could choose my clothes. Solly was probably hurt by my rejection. Jaeger in Regent Street was the right place to make a stand, and a bright orange coat with a long sweeping skirt – Dior's 'New Look' – announced my independence. It went so well with Black Sobranie cigarettes too.
I wasn't hankering for fur and my rabbit skin gloves were just a practical purchase against the cold. Once up in the 'gods' at Covent Garden, weeping over 'Rigoletto' I had a fright when a live rat ran along the velvet balustrade in front of me and I mistook it for my gloves.
After rabbit I moved up in the fashion stakes, although it was no doubt just a coincidence that the soft black wool jersey dress I wore to a party had real mink trim around the sleeves and neckline. It was an elegant 'little black dress' just right for the occasion; a gathering of ex-pat students and one wanderer, all Australians. As the quintessential British 'Miss' it was easy to scoop up the wanderer and decide to marry him. The dress is gone but I've kept the little pieces of mink. I'm nostalgic about the occasion but shamed to remember how unthinking we were about fur.
Sheepskin was used to line the leather jackets used by airmen and in an army surplus shop I found something to keep me warm as I explored Devon and Somerset on a Lambretta motor scooter clinging to the wanderer. 'Come to Australia with me', he said and so I ended up in the strange land of the 'jolly jumbuck'. In our Elwood 'studio' flat – one room with kitchen alcove – we turned again to the sheep and spent our evenings sewing Ugg boots, those fur lined slippers peculiar to Australia. We thought we might make enough money to save for a house deposit but the work made our fingers so sore we had to give up.
*** *** ***
I admire vegans and vegetarians but cannot reconcile all the many issues: eating meat, wearing leather shoes and jackets, pinching eggs from chickens. Fur however is very straightforward; it's no.
For many years now corgis have been the family's choice and their coats are thick and double layered. There's a lot of brushing involved and I roll the handfuls of fur into little balls and put them on the garden shrubs. The birds collect them for soft furnishing – Ikea for avians.
My eldest son stands in the hallway with a bunch of yellow wattle. Flowers and shrubs that hang over fences or alongside the creek are fair game, and he brings me many such gifts. He enjoys making me happy and together we search for an appropriate vase. My middle son doesn't think in floral terms but gives me pottery and glass and the wattle looks perfect in a 1950s brown and cream pot made somewhere in Israel. The youngest son is colour blind and once presented me with a bunch of quite unusual dyed chrysanthemum.
*** *** ***
I'm interested in genetic inheritance and can see a clear horticultural link between my eldest son and his grandmother. Sadie, my mother, loved to walk through municipal parks. Her own small house in outer suburban London was part of a terrace row and the back gardens I remember were all the same: long strips of grass surrounded by indifferent flower beds; the coal shed and mangle in one corner; a cement slab outside the French windows and a rope washing line with a wooden pole.
I missed out on the natural history gene. A 'ten pound Pom', I have always found the Australian landscape far too challenging. The flora confuse me and the fauna are alarming. Bush walking, camping, caravanning – they're not for me and I belong in a concrete jungle.
*** *** ***
As we arrange the sunshine of the yellow balls I flash back to 1957, to a young man throwing his hat into the crowd outside a suburban synagogue. He came out from the dreary little building with his new wife, his 'Pommie' girl. It's the bride who usually throws her bouquet, but from the start this marriage was different. The mandatory male head covering was the first and only hat the young man was ever to own and discarding it was a statement of some kind – a gesture of defiance? Against all odds the wedding had taken place. He was penniless, working with a West Indian crew shifting mailbags at a London terminus: almost suicidal at one point because he'd spent his return fare money to Melbourne on a Lambretta motor scooter in Milan and felt stranded in bleak London, unemployable, hungry, homesick.
The bride, let's face it, at twenty-six was just about 'on the shelf'. She was the family's 'black sheep' rebellious, unorthodox, didn't mix well with the Jewish community ('stuffy', 'conservative', 'boring' she called them). Even worse, she'd left home unmarried and was living in what was at the time 'bohemian' Hampstead. She might even be having affairs! Nothing about her was quite right. Marrying this nobody from Australia; an only child leaving her parents to go and live twelve thousand miles away; the indecent haste of the wedding ('Was she pregnant? Oh the shame!'). It was touch and go whether a cable would arrive from Australia in time to confirm the groom's Jewish credentials. The suburban rabbi barely knew where the Great Synagogue in Sydney was and probably took an altogether dim view of Jewish life in the 'colonies'.
Outside the synagogue the people watching were all from her side. The groom had only a small bunch of ex-pat Aussie students to support him. They reported afterwards that getting him to the ceremony had involved many stops for 'heart-starters'. The bride was in what their grandsons now call a 'different zone'. She didn't know of, or care much, about Australia; she was making her escape. If you'd asked her what she was escaping from she might not have been able to articulate it but freedom is somewhere in the mix. She and he had been living together for a few months but neither had any real knowledge of the other. They just fantasised about riding the Lambretta to exotic places and maybe one day having four children.
There had been barely three weeks to prepare for the wedding. He had a proper job back in Melbourne – advertising manager for Rockmans Stores – and if he didn't get back soon his employers would find someone else. The bride's parents were hard-pressed to organise a decent send-off, and they weren't affluent. It was also the time of the Suez crisis: no petrol for cars although the scooter, running on a teaspoon of fuel, looked smug as the bride and groom rode away from the reception into the icy night.
The bride had thought it might be ok to be married in a National Trust type mansion by candlelight, wearing red velvet. Her family said that it wasn't remotely ok and the boring synagogue ceremony was totally unmemorable. She wouldn't countenance a dress with lace or frills but chose a Pierre Balmain copy in plain white grosgrain, calf-length with a little jacket that had a stand-up collar.
The groom was consulted about flowers. It was probably the only item on which he was asked his opinion. In England freesia bloom in February and now they are in my Melbourne garden in his honour – of course at the other end of the year. The boy from Bondi wanted wattle too, the only link with his home. The local florist had never even heard of it; so he settled for French Mimosa flown in from the south of France.
'Settling' is a pretty accurate description of the marriage. She kept everything more or less on track; he decided whether the Australian government would raise taxes or go to war.
c Ros Collins 2015
We're having discussions about penalty rates for weekend work and what a can of worms that's proving to be! How complicated the notion of 'the Sabbath' can be, particularly for those attached to a particular religion or political perspective. Back in the 1950s, when I was a newly-arrived 'ten pound Pom', I used to call Australia a lotus land. Office workers worked Monday to Friday, 9.00 am to 5.00 pm, enjoyed a morning tea break and a full hour for lunch; shops closed at mid-day on Saturday. Families practised togetherness and the sound of lawnmowers was heard throughout the land.
If you were Christian, then Sunday church followed by Sunday lunch with family and friends might be on the agenda. If you were Jewish, then the days were reversed and Saturday was your Sabbath, although the observances really start at sunset on Friday. And this is where my reflections begin:
When I was a child, there were things we couldn't do on Shabbes and Yom Tov, such as go to the pictures (involving money) or use scissors (involving work). Solly's Girl Ch. 18
But my father, Solly, was a tolerant man and believed in compromise. During the height of the Blitz he decided that for the sake of our sanity we would join the queue outside the local cinema and see Fantasia and I remember the slides that appeared on the screen announcing the start and conclusion of the air raids that were taking place outside.
Fast forward to Melbourne suburban life in the 1980s. Alan and I were back in Elwood and he was a crew member on a friend's yacht. They were a lovely bunch of 'seniors' – we dubbed them 'Dad's navy' – and they sailed sedately across Port Phillip Bay from the marina at St Kilda to Williamstown and back, admiring the dolphins, drinking tea and taking turns in kipping down below in the little cabin. The yacht was called Dreamboat and indeed it was a dreamy time for this little group of Jewish 'elders'. They sailed on the Sabbath and Alan, who would have observed the observant attending morning and evening services as he drove along, wrote a poem, 'My Sabbath' which was published in Generation Magazine, July 1990:
On Saturday I wear my shirt with nautical flags on it.
In my street other Jews are wearing their signals too.
Their signals speak to me in sable semaphore
of how my Sabbath shuns synagogue for sea.
They frighten me with their testamental blackness,
like reproachful gannets that line the breakwater
as my sails belly to the first swelling wave –
an admonitory minyan, streimel-ed with feathers.
It's my Sabbath too I say to the whitefaced side-curled child
but not to his father who worries my conscience
nor his mother whose sheitl is so set, the wind that drives
my boat could not stir her waves. To the light-house we go.
They to theirs, me to mine. A boat is a holy vessel,
an ark of triumph that bows down only to the elements.
On Friday night I pray before my barometer. Then cut the
challah, salt it, pass it around: blessed art thou O Lord
who brings forth bread from the earth (and kindly winds for
Saturday that won't give the testamental ones all the
righteousness). Tomorrow, tomorrow, my tallit shall be a sail
around my shoulders, its ropes the side-curls of a white-faced boy.
[Just in case: minyan – a quorum; streimel – a fur hat worn by very orthodox Hasidic men; sheitl – a wig worn by very orthodox women to hide their hair; challah – the plaited Sabbath loaf; tallit – prayer shawl]
Alan wrote only a handful of poems and he was feeling his way with an unfamiliar genre. But he makes his views clearly. I understand where he's coming from with his worried conscience and desire for a share of the righteousness. I'm not so kind; however, his conflicting emotions about the Sabbath mirror my own.
His ideal agenda was Friday night dinner with the family, a Kehilat Nitzan synagogue service on Saturday morning, and then sailing on 'Sat'd'y arvo'. This mixed bag of Jewish observance and Australian recreational customs has surely given our children the message he and I would have always wanted for them. I would wave him goodbye with 'Have a nice pray!', 'Have a nice sail!' I was content to garden or read. I don't think this dilutes Jewish identity one bit and is more like a tribute to life. L'chaim! Solly's Girl Ch. 18
Fast forward yet again to 2015. There's something planned called the Shabbat Project and the Australian Jewish News has been vigorously bringing this world-wide event to its readers. The lead article last week was headlined: Observing Shabbat in the Home; for me it is just one huge guilt-trip.
'Simple tips on how to prepare your home to ensure a seamless Shabbat' fill me with – what? Despair, exasperation, frustration, nostalgia, amusement are just some of my emotions at the following instructions: clean the house and polish the silver; hide the remote controls for all gadgets and disable the equipment to which they relate; wash and iron my clothes for Shabbat; turn off lights and leave on only those that will stay on for the entire Sabbath; fill an urn with water and switch it on; tape down the light switch inside the fridge; pre-tear foil and food wrap; same for toilet paper (or use tissues); pre-cook all meals and keep them edible on a warming tray; record a phone message saying I'm not available until after Sabbath.
My orthodox family never went thus far and I wonder how many of us world-wide do, in fact, practice such a strict regime. The Australian Jewish News seems determined to shame me but, like Alan, I find the 'testamental blackness' intimidating. They to theirs, me to mine.
I reflect on my relationship with all my grandsons and my role as matriarch of this small family. The glue that holds us together is Shabbat dinner every Friday night. It is only a perfunctory nod in a religious direction, yet each of us knows this is an important punctuation point in the week, a moment when we reconnect. It's always a proper dinner, never take-away fish and chips or pizza. I battle to be heard over the conversation as I bless the candles and watch small Eli's eyes light up. Traditionally, the mother of the family covers her hair with a lace scarf and hides her eyes behind her hands, but I don't do that because I want to see my family and lace scarves are not me. This ritual meal has been a fixture throughout my married life. Now I take over Alan's chair, and his presiding photograph is ceremoniously placed on the mantelpiece by Isaac. We don't have silver candlesticks of our own, and the Art Deco ones Sadie and Solly used are so worn from my mother's polishing I've put them away in favour of small bronze enamel Israeli ones. Rhonda, Toby's wife, is usually at work, but she will have sent the challah she baked, and Eli and Isaac will cut and salt it. Toby, the total rationalist, will bless the wine; Daniel will recite the brakha in respectable Hebrew, with interpolations from Peter in a mockery of Yiddish accents. Then we can get down to the serious business of the weekend – football matches. Solly's Girl Ch. 18
The 'flight or fight' response interests me. I can't boast any knowledge of psychology although many of my friends seems to have it all at their fingertips, they can even spell catecholamines.
Looking back at the sequence of events during my recent 'near death' experience has surprised me. There was no fear, at least nothing to compare with seeing a mouse running across my floor. The hormones that must be released through my body on seeing the first huntsman spider are much nearer to 'flight or fight' than having stents inserted in an artery.
The sirens wailed, the ambulance driver was, I'm told, a lovely girl who drove very fast. It was getting to be a bit 'touch and go' so the man from central casting was waiting for me all scrubbed up in a really divine navy blue outfit. 'Is it alright if I have to open your chest?' he asked and how on earth could I refuse him.
Into Emergency and lying there hidden behind a monitor I felt just fine, apart from the pain in my heart. But it wasn't fear, nothing at all like mice or spiders. 'Are you going to save my life?' I enquired casually. 'I'll do my best', said the man from central casting. The nurses were all busy dabbing and dusting and it really did not hurt a bit when they put a catheter into my groin. I've done more damage leaping onto a chair to avoid a rodent.
'And how old are you Mrs Collins?' I wasn't anaesthetised so it was easy to answer. 'So how old are you?' I asked. 'I'm forty-seven' he said; he's younger than my children – but they're not into surgery.
'When we open the stents the pain will cease almost immediately.'
'You'll also feel the blood coursing through the artery again, rather similar in sensation to having a 'hot flush'. 'Oh, it's a long time since I've had one of those' I said cheekily.
Back in the ward and he whips out a little iPad thing and shows the children and me what he's done. Off to the next job and the family calms down a bit. I didn't die but evidently it was a bit close.
The next morning it was what looked like an Armani suit. By this time I have enough wit to ask questions. 'Will I have to spend the rest of my life in 'God's waiting room' and if so I don't want to.' 'I am not age-ist; you may do anything you want to and even more' said the saviour. This is great news for me, stressful for my children who find me uncontrollable and probably rates an A+ on the report card for the man from central casting. But just to be on the safe side I had the pest control people call yesterday. I could break a leg fleeing from a mouse.
© Ros Collins
Alan wrote:
'WITHOUT MY SENSE OFJEWISH HISTORY, I WOULD NOT BE A WRITER…. I WRITE OF JEWS IN AUSTRALIA [but] MY WRITING HAS ITS GENESIS IN OUR AUSTRALIAN ETHOS…' 'Say no to literary kashrut' Generation Magazine 1993
It's a fine piece of humorous and provocative writing and I will probably re-print the entire article in a separate blog; it deserves a wider audience.
Now with the publication of Solly's Girl it's my turn to think about this matter.
Alan's ancestors went from Spain and The Netherlands to London in the 1700s; they arrived in Sydney in the 1830s. They were part of the Anglo-Jewish community. He grew up intensely Australian but with a 'sense of Jewish history'. My grandparents went from Eastern Europe to London in the late 1800s and retained nostalgic sentiments about the shtetl life they had left behind. I was the first truly British child on one side of the family. I grew up yearning for a family tree that would reach back into English history:
London was the centre of my world. It was great to be English, and I would have given anything to be able to claim British ancestry, preferably back to the Tudors. Solly's Girl Ch. 1
* * *
Like my other grandfather, Morris did not become a citizen and, being Austrian, he was classed as an enemy alien during World War I, just as Nathan from Russia would be at the beginning of World War II. My family took its time to become British: Sadie and Solly [my parents] were both – almost accidentally – born in London, but their East End Jewish upbringing held them firmly and nostalgically to their roots in Eastern Europe. Not until my birth did a genuine little English girl appear on the family tree. Solly's Girl Ch. 4
So, what is my perspective? Not exactly Australian, even after fifty years. No longer British – I've been away too long. I'm really left only with 'Jewish' but this makes for complications. I'm not very observant and have no religious curiosity. Labels are tricky items. The aggressive atheists do little for me. The 'bob each way' agnostics leave me equally cold. I'm not one for deities but I'm comfortable with my Jewish heritage and appreciate the fact that there's always a branch of Judaism to suit whatever kind of Jew one is (you know the old joke, 'two Jews, three opinions'); and in my case Masorti, which is egalitarian and does not discriminate against women, makes me welcome.
I found it difficult to explain this in my memoir. I'm reminded of Brideshead Revisited and the 'twitch upon the thread' that pulls Waugh's characters back to their religion; all that angst – not for me.
On one occasion in my teens I deliberately tried to provoke Solly with stupid queries about the meaning of life. He was an amazingly tolerant man and just told me, mildly and correctly, to look in Ecclesiastes: 'there is a time for everything, for all things under the sun'.
It's become trite, a cliché and a lyric for popular music, but really what more is there to say?
And yet Jewish identity is not a problem for me. I think of it as a genetic inheritance, rather like blue eyes or red hair and not something to agonise over. A phrase from the Rosh Hashanah service comes to mind:
We believe that He abides in mystery.
Therefore we need not solve life's every problem.
And I don't try. Spiritual is not me. I think of Judaism as one long continuous question and answer debate, never to be resolved and fascinating for those of us who love a good argument. Words. Solly was a compulsive writer: poems, short stories, humorous retellings of Bible tales, memoirs. Alan was a journalist, a copywriter, a published author. 'Solly's girl' is a librarian. 'Jews and words' (Yale University Press, 2012) 'a speculative, raw, and occasionally playful attempt' on the 'relationship of Jews with words' is written by Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger, 'secular Jewish Israelis'. Their book resonates with me, as does their thesis that words 'compose the chain connecting Abraham with the Jews of every subsequent generation'.
My father was modest about his relationship with his God; he just quietly went off to shul, came home, kissed Sadie and me, made Kiddush (sanctification of the Sabbath) and that was pretty much it. Every day he'd recite morning prayers, but it was so discreetly done I was hardly aware of it until he visited us in Australia. When I was a child, there were things we couldn't do on Shabbes and Yom Tov, such as go to the pictures (involving money) or use scissors (involving work). There were no large family dinners; it was Sadie, Solly and me, just we three. The one big occasion was Pesach, when Solly conducted the seder for the whole of his extended family, but it was at his sisters' house, not ours. After I left England he put his heart into acting in a grandfatherly role to my cousin Gina's son, Mark, a surrogate for his own grandchildren in far away Australia.
I look at Solly's siddur, something I haven't done since I packed it up to bring home after he died. It's The Authorised Daily Prayer Book of the United Hebrew Congregations of the British Empire, with a new translation by the Rev. S Singer, the ninth edition published in 1912. Solly probably had it since he was bar mitzvah age. The binding is much worn and my father has neatly repaired it with a replacement spine taken from Letts Motorists' Diary. The tiny stitches must have tested his thimble as he sewed through two layers of black leather. Many of the pages have been mended with brown sticky tape, and wine from the Kiddush cup has been spilt over them from the Sabbath evening service. For so many years he and Sadie would 'make Shabbes' all by themselves on a Friday night. The challah would be on an orange rimmed lustre plate they must have received as a wedding gift in 1927. The edges are scored from his bread knife. We treat it more gently now, and the slices are cut on a board before they reach 'Poppa's plate'. In the frontispiece of his book are the Hebrew yortsayt dates – the anniversaries of their deaths – for his parents, Morris and Regina, and tucked in between the pages is a small booklet A Guide for the Living outlining the customs for mourners. Solly's siddur affects me deeply. As his daughter, I can place my hand on the worn leather and know that I'm sharing a moment with him. As a librarian, I can treasure a book that was used every day for over eighty years, not an impersonal computer tablet that's here today and gone tomorrow. I wonder what will happen to the book when I die.
And then there's Alan's siddur, a very different publication. A Prayerbook for Shabbat, Festivals, and Weekdays edited by Rabbi Jules Harlow and published in 1985 by the Rabbinical Assembly, New York. It is commonly referred to as Siddur Sim Shalom and has a Library of Congress Catalogue Card Number and an ISBN – a long way from Solly's Singer edition. I could digress here into a compare-and-contrast exercise between the two prayer books, wandering off into unfamiliar liturgical territory, but I think not. What is more important to me is the way in which Alan's book, like Solly's, tells so much about its owner. Siddur Sim Shalom is festooned with those small coloured stick-on marker flags used on business documents. Alan has written on each flag instructions regarding the service: which page comes next, the name of the prayer and where to find the important parts. There will not be another siddur in the world so decorated and so reflective of its owner's searching spirit. On the rare occasions I turn up at Kehilat Nitzan and take the book from its blue velvet bag, there are knowing smiles from the old-timers who remember Alan. I wonder what I should do with Siddur Sim Shalom. Solly's Girl Ch. 18
© Ros Collins, words and images
Long before the 1950s – in the 1920s in fact – we have romance in the East End of London. In Chapter 5 of Solly's Girl you may read about Solly and Sadie – my parents. Here's a little extract:
It was a long-distance courtship as Cardiff to London was at least a three-hour train journey. They exchanged letters I don't have and photographs, some of which have survived. I imagine he asked her to have studio portraits taken so he might show his mates, and these pictures are lovely. For his part Solly, who had a life-long passion for gadgets of all kinds, would surely have had a Box Brownie camera and sent her amusing photographs. She must have already said 'yes' when he wrote on the back of one of these that 'I look as if I possess the world'.
Well the deed is done, the blog is a 'presence' of some kind on the web. I take consolation from the thought that my digital ignorance is not that different from my automotive incapacity; 'just drive' I tell myself, don't worry about what's under the car's bonnet or in the computer's hard drive.
Now, my one contribution so far to the Collins' literary oeuvre is Solly's Girl, a companion piece if you like to Alva's Boy written by my husband Alan Collins. He was a professional writer and his works are significant contributions to Australian-Jewish literature; but there won't be any more since he died in 2008.
But fifty-one years' of marriage leave their mark and inevitably Alan is 'all over my book like a rash'. In this blog conversation I'm surely going to quote from his work so we'd best get this point clear from the start. And no doubt I shall reference the life we shared, the family we created; the way it was for 'the boy from Bondi' and his 'ten pound Pom'.


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Hidden Paradise Bar & Grill
Welcome to the Hidden Paradise Bar & Grill! Home of the world famous Rio Vista Bar on the mighty Rio Cangrejal
A great location on the banks of the Rio Cangrejal, next to the most magnificent infinity pool in Honduras.
The menu is both classic and Honduran Tipico. We specialize in Hamburgers with garlic fries and the best homemade pizzas on the river.
Choose from USDA NY strip or Ribeyes, pork chops, grilled shrimp, barbeque chicken or Caribbean fish or go for the more uniquely Honduran Baleadas and we love to do vegetarian fare. We know you will love our delicious desserts, many made specially for us.
Cocktails are poured with a slightly heavy hand and are very, very good.
Great soft drinks and juices and a good selection of Honduran and specialty beers.


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There is absolutely nothing like this ice cream. Black walnuts are so much more flavorful than regular walnuts that you will be blown away by this recipe. I harvest my own black walnuts, but you can buy black walnuts online as well.
The reason this recipe is so good is because I do a black walnut double-dip: First I infuse the cream with the nuts, which gives it flavor and a little color, and then you add those walnuts back in the final ice cream, which is itself enriched by several egg yolks. It's roll-your-eyes-back-in-your-head good.
Can you use regular walnuts to make this ice cream? Yes, but it will not be the same. Nothing beats wild walnuts.
This recipe and method works with any nut.
- 2 cups cream
- 2 cups milk
- 2/3 cup black walnuts, roughly chopped
- 2/3 cup sugar
- 1/2 vanilla bean, scraped
- 4 or 5 egg yolks
- Heat the cream, milk, sugar and walnut pieces in a heavy-bottomed pot to 170 degrees, or to the point at which it steams but does not simmer. Turn off the heat, add the vanilla bean and the scraped insides of the bean, stir well and cover. Let this cool for 1 hour.
- Move the mixture to a container and refrigerate for at least 4 hours, or up to overnight.
- Strain the mixture to remove the vanilla bean and the walnut pieces. Reserve the walnut pieces and set them in the fridge.
- Heat the strained mixture to 160°F. As it is heating, beat the egg yolks to combine. When the cream has hit its temperature, you will need to temper your eggs so they don't scramble. One hand holds a ladle, the other whisks the egg yolks: Pour in a little hot cream with one hand, whisking vigorously with the other. Pour in 2 ladles full, then pour the egg-cream mixture into the pot and stir well. Cook this gently, stirring often, for 5 minutes. Do not let it simmer.
- Strain this one more time and chill the mixture down at least to room temperature before putting into the ice cream maker. Churn it until it has the consistency of soft-serve ice cream, then remove to a large bowl and gently fold in the reserved black walnut pieces. Freeze and eat!
Note that the prep time does not include chill time or the time it takes to churn your ice cream.
More Black Walnut Recipes
More Recipes for Sweets and Syrups


text: Digital Bloomberg Businessweek Names Senior National Correspondent By Chris O'Shea|July 14, 2011Share By Chris O'Shea|July 14, 2011Share Bloomberg Businessweek has named Joshua Green – a former Senior Editor at The Atlantic, as well as a political writer for The Boston Globe – as a Senior National Correspondent. Green will be covering politics for Businessweek. Josh Tyrangiel, the magazine's Editor-in-Chief, said Green's experience in politics is an asset to Businessweek. "Josh is a great reporter and writer. He knows how to break news and he writes about complicated issues and personalities in memorable prose. He's a great addition to our political team and we are thrilled to have him join us." Share http://adweek.it/2kpA7JU copy Adweek Adweek


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Lately I have been seeing a lot of people stating their one "word" for 2016. DREAM, GROW, TRAVEL – you know, all of the feel good words that make your spine tingle. Seeing these words posted made me think that maybe I should try it. I mean, it never hurts to do an exercise that will put a fire under your passions – even if it may be a temporary "new years" type thing to do. But when I sat down to come up with a word, MY word to encompass what I wanted to go after this year, something inside of me stopped me in my tracks.
DREAM – "You're right. It's just a dream. Most of that stuff will never happen to you".
GROW – "That's a good one – you definitely have a long way to go".
TRAVEL – "Hey, remember how scared you are of flying? This will go well".
Each time I tried to come up with a word to encompass my year, the nasty demons in my brain would use it against me.
So I decided that my word for 2016 is going to be FREE
No, I don't mean FREE as in giving things away – although sometimes I do that. What I mean is FREE as in breaking free from my own self doubt. FREE as in no more talking bad about myself to myself. FREE as in allowing myself to be who I am – even though who I am is a little weird. But tell me – who here isn't a little weird? We all have things that we think others are judging us for. How boring would it be to be normal anyways? Weirdo's unite!
I've always heard that we ourselves are our own worst critics. Sometimes this is a good thing – like when we are trying to do something to the best of our abilities. Thinking critically of our work is healthy. It is when we start to think critically about ourselves in a personal manner – that's when we have a problem.
Over the last few months these demons in my brain have done their best to make me think that I was worthless. There have been days when I've thought about shutting down my blog and giving up because I didn't think I was good enough to compete. But do I really have to compete? No. Can't I just be me and if you like it – great?
Over the last few months there have been things I've wanted to do, but I didn't think I was "good enough" to try. Why? Trying is the first step of doing something new – isn't it?
When I sit here and think about all the things I want to accomplish this year – to travel more, to make new friendships, to improve upon my work and to dress more glam – the only thing that could possibly hold me back from doing these things is me and my own self doubt. So guess what? I don't want to let doubt steer my ship any longer.
2016 stands for freedom.
1 weird fact about me: I am nervous to try new foods because I always think that I might be allergic to them.
Join me in this freedom – What's one weird fact about you? Share it with us in the comments.


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Here are a few close-ups of today's project that you can view at your leisure...
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Beginning the New Year with Tranquility!
Here are a few close-ups of today's project that you can view at your leisure...
3 comments:
- rkramadh said...
What a gorgeous project!! I love the colors and textures and of course butterflies and flourishes! Very classy! PEACE...Yes, this beautiful planet needs that NOW.
- January 12, 2015 at 7:39 AM
- rkramadh said...
Sorry for double comments but I find the Shimmerz products confusing. I went to their site, I see diff sprays/spritzs and some I know are paints. I want just spray colors. The Moody Mauve you show here is dark burgundy looking while the site shows that color to be pale violet (mauve..). I want the darker one you show. Does it show up that dark? Thanks in advance.
- January 12, 2015 at 8:39 AM
- Gabrielle Pollacco said...
Hi there, sorry I just now saw your question. You can find all the sprays under the headings 'Coloringz', 'Spritz', and 'Vibez'...the moody mauve looks darker in the bottle (when wet), it has a nice rich, strong color (one of my favorites) but it does dry slightly lighter....it does look lighter in the sample pic. Another fav color for me is the "Punked Up Purple" a nice smokey plum color;)
- February 1, 2015 at 8:45 PM


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White Pearl & Hammered Toggle Clasp Two Strand Bracelet
Product Code: WHBR3
Availability: In Stock
Available Options
A classic two strand pearl bracelet with a difference. I've used two strands of white 'side-drilled' pearls and finished the bracelet with a lovely hammered sterling silver toggle clasp. The irregular look of the pearls is created by using pearls that have their hole drilled from side to side as opposed to top to bottom. They measure approximately 7mm. The clasp measures14mm.
This bracelet can be made up using any of my pearls - just ask - firstname.lastname@example.com


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Sliquid Swirl Intimate Water Based Lubricant Blue Raspberry 4.2 Ounce
Add Your Review0 Review(s) |
Swirl is a group of flavored water based lubricants, all glycerin and paraben free. Sliquid currently offers four flavors; Cherry Vanilla, Pina Colada, Green Apple Tart, and Blue Raspberry. New flavor formulations are always under way, including Strawberry Lime, due on shelves in late 2007. All Swirl formulations start with our Original H2O water based lubricant, and add flavoring and a hint of Aspartame to sweeten. Our flavors are subtle, and are intended to enhance your taste, not disguise. All Sliquid products are formulated by sensitive women, for sensible women, and will never cause yeast infections or UTI's.
- Lightly flavored to enhance taste
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Burning Desire Candle With Pheromones Passion Fruit 4 Ounce


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1 min read
skucon Chicago Keynote: Quiet Design with Lon McGowan (iClick)
August 9, 2016
|In skucon
Fresh out of college and without any background in the promotional products industry, Lon McGowan founded what has become one of the industry's most beloved companies, iClick, and 2 additional companies outside the promotional products business. In this keynote, Lon shares some success stories as well as key lessons he's learned from some prominent business failures. This session is for anyone who has dreamed of taking their business to the next level or getting a fledgling idea off the ground.
commonsku is cloud-based promotional products software to modernize your business. We give you the best tools to run your business from presentation through to invoicing and everything in between.


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Have you ever wondered how to teach the Bible to your kids or incorporate Bible devotions into the hustle & bustle of everyday family life? Join Kylie Butler in the trials & tribulations of her well meaning but humorous quest for weekly family devotions. Thoughts on bible engagement and tools, resouces, challenges, ideas to raise the level of bible engagement amoungst Christians
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Gideon's 3 army men
This week we looked at the story of Gideon from Judges 6-8. It was a little tricky to find 30,000 army men, so we worked with 30, then 10, then 3. And of course we used army men. The kids thought it would be impossible for Gideon's army of 3 to win over an army of 30, but to their amazement God's army won!
Great way to interact with this story with Toby's favorite toys - I always try to find ways to help the family engage with the story in a way that they will remember and understand.
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Polishing with Speed and Consistency – Motoman Robots
Polishing is a finishing process that is performed after material removal processes to even out the surface of the part or product. Manufacturers are switching to automated polishing robots, like those available through Motoman Robotics, to improve the polishing process. Motoman has developed a line of robots that are able to perform the polishing process with the speed and consistency to keep manufacturers competitive in the constantly changing marketplace.
While human workers are able to polish parts, the rapidly changing requirements and needs of the metal finishing industry is not served well by manual applications. According to an article in the International Journal of Advanced Manufacturing Technology, the ratio of the finishing process time to the whole process time is increased, as well as having an increase in the demand for surface quality. This renders manual polishing almost obsolete, especially in companies that run higher volumes. Robotic polishing, like the applications performed by Motoman robots, has a higher level of flexibility and a lower cost overall.
A Motoman robotic polisher delivers consistent polishing over the entire part, leaving the part with a gleaming, even finish, which improves the overall aesthetic of the part. With a Motoman robot polishing system, speed is also consistent, and more parts can be polished successfully in a day, without having to sacrifice their quality. This allows manufacturers to finish part orders more quickly and expand their business over time. Also, manufacturers are able to combine up to four robots in a workcell, two manipulating parts and two polishing parts, for ultimate flexibility and speed.
Engineers have performed studies to prove the effectiveness of robotic polishing vs CNC polishing, and they chose a Motoman polishing robot to perform the study. The Motoman SV3 robot was used during the study, along with an XRC controller. With the CAD design and a trajectory generator, the Motoman SV3 polishing robot was able to perform an effective polishing application without the need for a complicated teaching process, making it more user-friendly, another benefit for customers.
Also, polishing and finishing applications can frequently have smaller parts, which can be hard to handle. Motoman has a wide variety of polishing end-of-arm tooling that can polish anything from a large car work piece to the smallest of work pieces for the electronics industry. Motoman also offers a MotoGrind robot grinding and polishing turnkey system that allows for more consistent polishing of parts that have complicated shapes. This system incorporates a laser scanner and specialized Motoman software into the application process to get an even polish on the more complex parts.
Many Motoman polishing robots can also be used for grinding and other material removal processes. In the video above, a Motoman grinding and polishing robot is mounted on a linear servo track to move it the length of the part, and the system is equipped with an automatic tool changer so the robot can swap out grinding tooling for polishing tooling, another way to improve the flexibility of your system.
Motoman recommends the MH series of robots for polishing applications, because of their high level of performance and durability. This fast moving series of robots, which features the MH215 and MH50, are built with high-durability drive units and high moment and inertia ratings, which allow them to glide smoothly through their application.
Are you interested in learning more about Motoman polishing robots or not sure what type of polishing applicator or tooling is right for your product or robot? The RobotWorx staff will work with you to help select the right robot system, tooling or applicator for your project.
For more information, contact RobotWorx today online or at 740-251-4312.


text: Sawubona Capoeira Africana! Thank you for reading. Please stay tuned as we will be updating the site regularly providing exclusive interviews and insights from the African capoeira world. We are pulling resources together to bring you video footage of interesting research, people, places and events as well. But as you know, "Umuntu ngumuntu nagabantu". So we need your help too! Send us your thoughts, your pics, your references, etc. so we can make this an efficient communal hub of information and resources to access capoeira in the African world. We can't do it without you! But it must be done. Isandla sigez' esinye.


text: Has anyone towed a Lexus GX460 4 wheels down? Did you need a lube pump? We are looking to purchase an 07, 08 or 09. Lexus says no, but I know people are towing them. They do make a base plate for the 07, but not the 08 or 09. The body style, per dealer, has not changed at all.


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Sapphic naked darlings Timea and Bella are having an explosive time sucking each other pussies.
Timea BellaForeplay And Friction
At Alsscan, feel the wild tremors of naked pleasuring as charming Timea and alluring Bella share their naughty twats.
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One comment
You can ask something about Timea Bella or just share your impressions about this nude pictures and this girl. If you want us to upload more photos with this actress, please contact us!


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- Language English
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- Uploaded By nata27
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- Last checked 4 months ago
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Very hot 35 year old Latina doing her very first adult video. She's a single MILF with beautiful face, big tits and a nice ass. Something about this woman, she has sex appeal. I am sure she turns a lot of heads when she's out. She is a little submissive, likes when the man takes control. When Nick asked her if she likes anal sex she smiled real big and said "sure". Turns out she is a bit of an anal freak. Nick gave it to her ass very good. Overall I think this is another great shoot for the MomPov members. Stay tuned, like always, more footage is on the way.
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text:
owl treats
For Zara's Owl Party and any sleepover I would totally recommend making or ordering in pizza. Everyone LOVES pizza and it is easy to serve and reheat later on should hunger strike later on. For the table I bought some owl fabric and then set the table with the Patchwork Owl paper plates, cups and napkins. For the centrepiece, I found some ceramic owls at the local garden centre. (On a side note: I spray painted these black for my Halloween table and am keen to use them for a future Harry Potter too).
In addition to pizza, I set up a MIDNIGHT SNACKS buffet with marshmallows, gummi bears, mini twix, mini mars bars and chocolate lollipops in shapes of owls and some cupcakes I made using this little cupcake kit. The cupcakes I made did not rise that high, so I actually ended up unwrapping a cupcake and placing it on top of another one with icing in between - the double cupcakes looked pretty cool! I then just added in a wooden 8 in the centre of the cake stand (Typo sell similar) and that was the birthday cake for the party. The little wooden 8 now lives in Zara's bedroom and it is pretty cool (plus I can use it again when Bailey turns 8).
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text: PEOPLE Published on October 14, 1996. NEW YORK: The New York Times Magazine celebrated its 100th anniversary with a display of historical photos at the Museum of Modern Art. Gathered here (from l.): Gene Bartley, president-New York operations, Bozell Worldwide; Janet R obinson, president-general manager, The New York Times; Joel Kushins, managing partner, Bozell; and Jack Rosenthal, editor of The New York Times Magazine. Most Popular In this article: News


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text:
Sara's Baby Shower Menu – It's a jungle out there
Anyone who has given birth or is the "supportive one" to someone who is pregnant knows what a crazy, confusing jungle To-Be parenthood is. There is joyful enthusiasm at the prospect of new life and shear delight at the first whispers of a racing heartbeat. Sometimes the early days and months also involves vomit /


text:
I am not a superstitious person, but when the security check point said that our tickets gave him the result "not departing from this airport" after we had checked in both at home, and at an airport self-service machine, I quietly muttered, as we had to trek to the other end of the airport to check in at a service desk, "let's hope this isn't an omen for the trip in general..".
I was gonna say let's skip the immensely boring details on this one, but.. I can't /snorts
so. after having literally JUST paid for our train tickets to get from Charles De Gaulle airport to Gare Du Nord, they announce over the loudspeakers that there's been some sort of accident at GDN so all trains from CDG to Paris have been cancelled. instead there are buses from terminal 3. this was terminal 2.
and of course they only announced it in French, so most of us just stand around with blank looks on our faces until the first (obviously non-touristy cos no luggage or anything) people start to move and then we just all follow. baa....
shuttle train to terminal 3, our 20€ train tickets were no good for the bus - who were completely sold out anyway orz
so much back and forth and asking a million different people who gave a million different answers and, just- uGH
so, yeah, long story short, after 2½ hours we finally managed to get out of the airport, and after 4 different trains (yes, apparently some trains did run??) and a walk we arrived at the hotel only about 4 hours late SHISUS CHRIST.
I was so done with Paris at this point
and then at check in at the hotel the lady took her sweet-ass time to confirm our reservation, and for a moment there I thought they had given it away cos we hadn't told them we were coming late-ish to begin with, and then the delay so by now it was 9:30pm.
fortunately their computer system was just being an ass.
and fortunately, "if we didn't mind French food" which we didn't!, she could recommend a place close by, that were still open, to get some dinner cos we were surprised at how many places were already closed on the walk from the metro to the hotel.
it was this amazing brasserie and we instantly fell in love with the place, but not only cos it fed us the most delicious meal at a reasonable price. it was just cosy and down to earth and all the waiters were really nice and smiley and hospitable.
and we immediately agreed that if they had opened after the concert we would come back so we didn't have to hustle around late at night for a new place.
I've always had a strange relationship with snails, and to be honest I only like the garlic butter aka nothing that has to do with the actual creatures, but I thought, when in Rome! and what's more 'French brasserie' than escargots, huh?!
so I ordered half a dozen (no need to get too carried away), and OH. MY. GOD. they were totally amazing!!! I have clearly never had a well-prepared snail before because this was just in a whole nother league!
I had a small Pretty Woman moment (though not AS bad) with the snail..holder thingy until I didn't care and picked the shells up and placed them in the holder, then everyone around me could breathe easy again LOL
hubs had dry cured ham for starters, and it was beyond jsfhskf
for mains he had Entrecôte Bearnaise, and I had Gigot d'Agneau and the squeals of yummy delight around our little table were just endless!!
yes, we're one of those couples who sticks fork-/spoonfuls of our food in the others mouth before he/she can even think to ask if he/she can have a taste, and we totally raved about the other ones food, so when we had finished our meal and hubs said he actually liked mine better, I told him he was an idiot cos he should just have asked if we could switch. I would have eaten anything at that point!
anyway, almost as soon as the last mouthful was downed I got hit by tired like a bolt of lightning, like, seriously! bright and chipper one moment, and then next I could barely keep my eyes open! it sound exaggerated, but unfortunately it happens like that for me even when I'm driving 8|
we stopped by Carrefour on the way back cos we needed some water for the night/my meds. of course we came out with two huge bags full of different desserts and drinks and chips to sample as well.
we usually do this when we're abroad, and everywhere it's in search of fun new drinks (we're talking sodas and smoothies and such, no alcohol) and good vinegar chips (we can only get one decent kind here, and they aren't even that widely common cos it's not a Danish flavour, and for some reason I'm a little sad to say it's from Lays).
and for France specifically it's an eternal search for the perfect tarte limone. so far, the clear winner is a small bakery in Lausanne, Switzerland, though.
|yes just smoothies but look how cuteee!!!
back at the hotel I got a second wind while hubby crashed lol how it always goes with us.
so he went to sleep and I stayed up til 5am. I really didn't intend to let it get that late (I was sorta sick/fever-ish and we had a long day ahead of us), but I got completely caught up in this fic I was reading and time just flew cos I just had to read the next chapter, too.. and the next... and...the next.. and-
there were tears and it wasn't pretty and made me sleep way too late orz
our plan for the day was to swing by Trianon to see how big the queue was around midday cos considering the weather forecast of lovely almost minus C degrees and rain showers and my sickness it wasn't really an option to queue all day - plus hubby'd never agree to it this time of year lol - and then maybe go down there around..2-3pm?
we weren't sure when doors would open but the tickets said show should start at 7 so we assumed around 5:30-6-ish.
our shoe box
I felt shitty and ended up sleeping until almost noon, but then hunger drove me out of bed.
and huge bonus, it was a beautiful sunny winter day!
|the view from our tiny balcony was straight out of The AristoCats!!
in other words it would have been perfect to just walk around Montmartre all day, but alas~ we had standing around to do so.
in our search for a bakery or some decent sandwich shop of sorts we did first walk past Trianon (did I mention our hotel was only 100 meters away? convenient) and looked at the queue. there were two queues, a really tiny one with maybe 30 people, and then the big one, so we assumed the little one was for the VIP tickets.
but even in the long queue I think there was about a couple of hundred people at this point, maybe 300?
nothing major anyway, so we walked on and strolled the streets of Montmartre and it was just beautiful, and not too many people, and sunshine and ^___^
|Sacre Coeur
we ended up at this little square with a big carousel, and about 30 police officers in the heaviest battle gear I've ever seen outside of an actual war zone! but there wasn't any commotion and they didn't stop people or do anything besides stand around in little groups talking amongst themselves..
but there were families picnicking, children on the carousel, people hanging around on benches enjoying the weather.. it gave a very eerie feel to the picture..
we spotted a Kushmi shop and went to check it out to see if they had my tea cheaper than back home. we had barely closed the door behind us before the sales lady offered us a sample of some..floral thing, I can't remember what exactly. she spoke fast and in a heavy French accent so lol
but the tea was good (as expected of Kushmi), but what I especially noticed was that it was at perfect drinking temp right from the start. no blowing on it for five mins and then still burning the tip of your tongue.
anyway, in the end they didn't have the prices I wanted so we just had our little tea party and left.
and we still needed food.
we went back down the hill to the big street.
|"our" brasserie! ^^
here were tons of police, too, and at this point we assumed they were having a drill of some sorts..
we finally found a bakery and got our food, and we stopped by a pharmacy to got hubs some earplugs. he had forgotten his own custom made ones at home, so he had to do with cheap regular ones.
he got tinnitus when he was young from playing in a death metal band and listening to too much of that stuff without earplugs, so now he's very responsible about it, and we never go to concerts without him using them.
me... I don't have tinnitus yet so I'm still acting like an idiot.
aaaaanyway, as we walked back towards the hotel along the main road we suddenly saw some police flashes and a big crowd all the way down by Trianon.
|the white building by the red flags is Le Trianon
it was a coincidence that they happened to be by Trianon, it's not like the Angels had anything to do with it lol but it turned out that there was a demonstration coming so that was probably the reason for all the police in the area.
as we got closer we chuckled cos it was a tiny demonstration and they could've managed with a fraction of the man power they had shown up with to be honest. or so we assume.
okay that was a side note.
|queue to the left of the door is the short one, and down the road on the right, further than you can see in this picture, is the long queue. quite a difference!
we quickly went back and ate and changed our clothes - yes, we had special concert clothes lol
first of all, we had buried deep into our closet to find anything remotely purple since that is Tintap's colour. it was surprisingly easy for hubs and surprisingly (idk) difficult for me, but I found 1 old top aw yiss!
not the prettiest, and definitely a couple of sizes too small by now, but, oh well, it was purple! \o/ besides no one cares once there are pretty boys on stage so.
secondly, I had brought long underwear cos despite the ear plugs issue I'm not a complete fool, and just standing around outside in winter.. I'm too old to freeze my ass off to be honest! but since it was such a nice day, even though cold, we opted out of that.
and since this is Europe, home to tall bishes everywhere, I had of course brought my high heel boots cos shorty Korean orz
anyway, when you usually spend 340-350 days a year in flip flops, suddenly having to squeeze into boots on heels can be quite the challenge for huge flat feet -.- but I got in them and off we went.
we didn't get further than the elevator, though, cos I could barely walk already, and hubs could barely contain his laughter over how ridiculous I looked when I tried!
so he gave me a stern look and convinced me (it wasn't really that hard to be honest) to go back and change into my Adidas high-tops. thanks hubs I love you ♥
I don't think we made it down to the queue until close to 4:30, and by that it seemed like every single ticket holder had shown up already! the queue just went on foreverrrr~
we didn't really care cos it wasn't our plan anyway to get all up in front. our plan was got go stand somewhat in the middle of the room, and then when they'd come on stage everyone will push forward, and then we would be fairly close, but without being pushed and showed around too much to be able to take pics and film.
after a while a Swedish girl and her dad (or so we assume) came and stood behind us, but they took turns disappearing and lurking around, and after a while they left the queue and didn't come back.
that made me very suspicious........
at around 5:45 I had to go pee back at the hotel, and on the way I saw the two Swedes in the short queue??! so they probably had VIP tickets.. but...then why would they come down to our long queue first?? so what? maybe it wasn't a VIP line after all???
sigh if only I hadn't been too shy and awkward with people I could've just gone up to them and asked what the deal was
on the way back from the hotel I really noticed just how short the little queue was and I was just kicking myself for not having the courage, and finally, as I walked by, I just said, fuck it, and turned around and went up to the two girls who were last in line, and asked them if it was a VIP queue or what. they didn't know either LOL
so instead I asked the security guys who were having a little pow-wow by the side of the road, and jdfhlshgalfjk they said both queues were for everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
cut to me semi-running back all the way down to the-almost-end of the long queue, and dragging hubs off to the little queue!!
so not only did we just beat like 8-900 people in the queue, but it turned out that another perk of being up here where all the security guys roamed, was being able to listen in on what they talked about amongst themselves, and the answers they gave others.
and that's how we found out that some of the guards did call this the VIP line - which was when we decided to play stupid foreigners who couldn't speak French if the need arose - and, 2) the doors weren't set to open until 6:30..!?
guess it takes a lot less time to have to herd only around 1000 people into a venue than the audience capacity we're used to at concerts. supposedly Tintap still managed to top the sales charts or something upon release of the tickets even with capacity being this small.
so good job, boys! <3
oh, another plus was that on this side the Trianon had a music store as a neighbour and so there was music while we waited. that may not sound like much BUT TRUST ME.
there were several times where the security guys yelled something in French, and then everyone started waving their tickets (aka print out papers) and IDs around, and meanwhile we just stood there looking lost..
and we did see different prices on people's tickets, but we still stayed calm.
of course it also helped that the guy I had asked was one of the guys who were apparently gonna be checking tickets before entry so hopefully he wouldn't give us any problems.
the wait did go by a lot faster than for Big Bang cos this was right on a busy street and I love to people-watch anyway, so that and the music helped a lot, but towards the end I was really freezing, so when they finally started letting people in I was so ready!
it turned out that we got through the door just fine, but inside the people clearly thought it was VIP ticket holders who were getting let through first cos we had barely made it inside until we got goodie bags (aka a big envelope lol) stuck in our hands. we had no clue what it was but we happily accepted!
we went straight to one of the merch tables so I could get my lightstick, and for a weak moment I contemplated getting the signed CD as well, but.. nah, already got 3 so I controlled myself!
we had originally talked about wanting to get up on the first balcony to avoid the pushing, but they checked tickets to get up there so instead we went to the bathroom, and then just went in to the main hall.
this was such a cute place! totally old and theatre-ish, and once again I found myself happy to be here at such a small venue, but at the same time I felt a little bad for the boys that they didn't get a bigger place than this cos they could easily have sold double or triple the amount of tickets.
there were almost 100 girls already packed right in front of the stage, but there were still a lot of free space, so we just planted ourselves right in the middle of the room, dead centre.
after we unpacked the cameras and the lightstick we contemplated just leaving our bags off to the sides along the walls like all the girls, but hubs was a little sceptical so we went looking for a coat check. and they did actually had a coat check on the first floor.
when we came back there were obviously a lot more people by now, but still only about half full so we could easily get the same spot as before.
and then we just waited. yawn.
test shots
|there were definitely some noonas on the lower balcony head on. Koreans, high-end video gear, tripods, and the position fits perfectly with the cams they've uploaded
although they did play Tintap songs and people sang along - to the English parts anyway lol it actually gave me goosebumps to hear the fanchant for To You ;~; I mean, if you can even call it that since it's just their names, but it just made it all feel very Korean all of a sudden.
sidenote: the Swedes were sitting up on the balcony aka they must've had VIP tickets which made me wonder why they had come all the way down to our queue at first.. anyways.
|for once nail polish didn't match cos I didn't have purple and didn't have time to look for it before we left :(
and then the lights went out, people screamed even more and everyone except us surged forward towards the stage and before we knew it we had a decent amount of space to move around on.
plus screamer girl, as I had dubbed her after 2 seconds of the sing-along-songs, of course
pushed far ahead and out of mine and my camera's ear shot ^^
oh, another sidenote. I think I heard on twitter later that people had complained to the organizers or something because the audience had screamed so loudly and security hadn't made them stop..... or something.....
if that's true.. yeah. I just had to share that little tidbit.
again, I'm not gonna attempt a play by play, I was far too emotional and asdffghjkflklg to be able to do that properly. I'll just tell you what I remember.
besides, we filmed almost the entire time, and took pictures of everything, except a few short ments and VCRs cos our arms really needed a tiny break to be able to film most of every performance, so if you look through everything you won't have missed much.
the best thing to get to experience was happy boys were happy ♥
of course I can't know what was in their hearts, but they seemed happy, and relaxed, and in such a good mood, and laughed and goofed off, and just.. like they were truly living their dream.
they interacted a lot with the audience and as usual both Ljoe and Niel really stood out in this area, just like last time I saw them.
another thing I noticed, though, and it was really evident when you get to see them for this long, is that Changjo is really the introvert of the group, at least to me.
maybe people might have bet it would be CAP or even Ljoe cos they aren't as loud as Ricky and Niel and Chunji, but they're both full of humour and smiles and mischievous and playfulness anyway.
and this night in particular, I've never seen CAP more smiling and laughing and just generally playing around and enjoying himself. it was a joy to see.
anyway, about Changjo, it's not like he's in a bad mood or he doesn't wanna be there, he's just stands back often with not much facial expression going on, and by now I sorta just take that as him being him, and not something necessarily negative.
I just think it stuck out for me this night because everyone else seemed so up-beat and out-going so with the contrast it became more clear.
I'm sure Changjo biased people will be disagreeing, but this is just my observation on this night. and the other time I saw them, but more about that in another post.
and like I said, I'm really not judging him, I'm an introvert myself, it's just what struck me.
THEY ALL LOOKED SO GOOD, LIKE, ALL OF THEM except I really don't like Niel's hair oh dear god. can he please get Crazy flat hair back cos gorgeous.
anyway, his mood made up for the hair by far so \o/
loving Byeongheon's hair! he was gorgeous with
there was a good flow to the show. it was a good mix of group performances, 1, 2 or 3 acts, ments and VCRs.
holding up big signs for almost the entire concert when you're standing in the middle is just so fucking inconsiderate I don't even.. you'll see.. /sigh
sure, my arms felt like falling off towards the end, but it wasn't until we looked through our cams that we realized just how many songs they performed cos time just flew by.
there were only one song of theirs, Where's My Girl, that I had never heard before. and after having heard it I doubt I'll be hearing it again LOL
there was no point to all the smoke they filled the place with even prior to the concert. it just made everything blurry ugh
their English have really improved! I mean, sure it was probably mostly rehearsed sentences, but pronunciation was a lot better than expected, especially Ricky's.
for me, Tintap might be cute young boys, but they are not aegyo, they really aren't orz
sure, they're cute with Mickey Mouse ears or big bows on their heads, and they are really cutie pies when they aren't trying, but once they start trying.. oh lawd I cringe, I'm sorry.
and so their little aegyo..sexy ment or whatever it was, was somewhat tough to watch, some more than others, and Chunji's...sexy hand slide? I dunno what to call it even, but from our spot it looked like he just turned his back to the audience, bend over a little and spread his butt cheeks to the audience. .... /blinks
I bias him why??
oh, right! cos he can hold a solo stage like he did, and just make me weak in the knees and hurt in my heart with just his voice.
he killed it ♥
sure, hubs thinks he was out of tune in the beginning, and maybe he was a little - I'm half tone-deaf I think, so who am I to argue, but I did nevertheless cos biased, but.. he might have been, I'm not gonna be blind and say he never is.
I'm just glad he wasn't obviously off key and his voice didn't crack once at all that I noticed \o/
I thought it was really interesting to have Niel and CAP do a, I dunno, hip hop stage? or what do you call that? lol
point being, beforehand I wouldn't have thought this to be very "Niel", but they were both totally into it and having such a good time :D I'm wondering how much of the lyrics they understand...
they have a lot of songs with "girl" in the title.
I cried. of course. but oddly enough it wasn't at a performance, it was during a cavalcade of their promo songs since debut, but seeing it listed like that just made me so incredibly proud of them.
they started so young and have just worked their asses off to succeed, and they have done that, and managed to stay the young bunch of kids that they are without becoming jaded or big-headed by their success.
they have grown, and evolved, and matured, and made some great catchy hit music along the way.
that warranted tears.
they did all my faves ♥
I appreciate the sentiment, but I thought it was a little weird and.. I dunno, misplaced somehow, to have them end with an English song.
I get it's a song most people over here or everywhere know and can sing along to, but I don't want them to do English as the grand finale.
I want that to be something arch Tintap that would leave my senses filled with them, not the Beatles.
but very minor grievance cos the entire night was perfection.
to attend bias group's solo concert on my own continent, I feel extremely fortunate ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ
and maybe that's also partly what made me cry here cos I realize that the chances of me ever seeing them again are extremely slim.
I mean, it's not like they will be back once a year or something, and they have comebacks and Asia and national activities to tend to, too, so it will probably be a good while before they swing by Europe again.
they will probably go to the Americas first, so my best chance of seeing them again might be to accidentally stumble into Korea at a time where they just happen to be promoting a comeback.
but can I really be that lucky twice...?
it was interesting to see how, even before they had even left the stage after All You Need Is Love, there were people bolting out of there. clearly people who wanted to get to see them leave and knew that this was the end and they wouldn't be coming back out cos the rest of us stayed until they turned up the house lights.
I was burning up with fever, but I pretty much forgot all about it - except at one point where I got really light-headed - but under those circumstances I think I did really well.
we got the backpack, and quickly headed out - and when I say quickly I mean very slowly cos even though my feet were fine cos I didn't wear the heels, my entire body was sore and slightly cramping in back, lover back, and arms and shoulder and just...
you don't just use your hands to keep a camera steady under those conditions, it takes your whole body, and then when it's for that long a while it's murder /whines
but towards the brasserie we went cos we were starving by now. we dropped by the hotel and left the backpack, but we still brought one of the cameras cos I was super impatient lol
fortunately they had a free table though this seemed to be peek hours or something.
we quickly ordered and then I went to the bathroom, and oh OH funny story about that!! they had a Dyson Airblade!!!! 8D in this little brasserie OMG
I dunno why but I've been obsessed with this since I first saw it many years ago *u*
if you don't know what it is, it's a hand dryer where you just move your hands up and down a few times through this air jet stream and they're dry in seconds!
I really want one but they're $1600. yes I actually checked prices and stuff!!
okay toilet sidenote over.
this time I went for the full dozen of snails \o/ hubs got a Roquefort salad
|poor bb hadn't had anything to drink for nearly six hours, he was parched
for main I had the entrecoté tonight. poor hubs was a little confused after the day's excitement so he ended up ordering the lamb, when what he meant to order was the Boeuf Bourguignon lol
it was still all delicious and it was nice to have an actual nice meal and not just a sandwich or something fast food.
I never really got around to watching anything on the camera cos it's hard to watch and eat at the same time.
again we stopped by Carrefour on the way back cos we needed more water. I'm actually not sure if you can drink Parisian tap water, but even if you can it smelled and tasted a little bit chlorine-y so I'd rather drink bottled.
back at the hotel we finally had time to look and see what VIP goodies we had accidentally gotten. it was a rolled poster and a couple of badges and... I feel like there were something else, too..
we tried starting to edit when we got back to the hotel, but we hardly made it anywhere before we just passed out cos we were so beat.
in the end we just made it out there, ate a quick sandwich, and looked at a few videos before we had to board.
- and by board I mean, had to volunteer to have our hand luggage put in the cargo hold cos Easyjet had over-booked hand luggage and there wasn't room for everything so volunteers were needed for take off to happen -.-
but we volunteered and saved everyone's timely departure
that is such a neat trick if you're scared of flying, and I'm definitely gonna try and nap on other flights from now on! no hearts racing, no sweaty palms, no panicking, it was awesome.
and now for the fun stuff!
first of all, some technical details.
the floor that's laid out in Trianon for events like this is wood boards meaning that when everyone jumps at the same time you can't help but be bounced around which makes it completely impossible to keep a steady camera.
hopefully the stabilizer made it so you won't think it's too nauseating to look at.
I dunno if you would have noticed, but the sound on Perfume and a few other songs is different because they turned up the bass so much on those songs that it totally screwed our cameras -.-
but considering pushing, and annoying people with their fucking signs, and the fact that I was burning up with fever during the concert I think everything came out okay.
about pics and cams.
please, DO NOT RE-UPLOAD my cams without my permission, but feel free to spread my youtube links around, preferably with a "do not re-up" note.
and DO NOT crop, edit, gif, vine, or whatever else you can think of that would alter my original material.
as far as the pictures are concerned, feel free to share if you find them good enough for that, but DO NOT crop my watermark, DO NOT edit, and please re-up in full size. please credit.
other than that I hope you enjoy, and as usual, if you actually read through the entire post THANK YOU ♥