Nick and Shoes

Can’t wait until Christmas?

You don’t have to!

Go and check your shoes…

Right now!

Is there anything in them?

Are they filled with lollies?

Apples or Nuts?

Coins?

Did you find a present?

No?

Maybe you didn’t leave

 your shoes by the chimney?

Maybe next year.

Today is St Nicholas Day.

Kids leave their shoes

by the chimney,

Good Old Nick turns up

 during the night and leaves

 a small gift in the kids' (stinky) shoes!

I did read about one poor

 teacher’s story

about this tradition.

She taught some childen

who were lucky enough

to have been visited by St Nicholas.

 They came to school,

excited and happy to tell their

classmates all about it.

 Those poor kids who were not

 visited by St Nick were

devastated and crying,

asking why they were not visited!

Oh, imagine!

I wonder how worried those kids

 were on Christmas Eve –

and how relieved

they must have been

 to wake up to presents

 on Christmas Day!

On that note – I have had

to supress a grin or two

when the kids in my class

 have told me about seeing Santa –

the REAL one!!

Oh, the fun of Christmas

when Santa is still real!

Vaseline for Bali Boys

 

Vasoline

Our skin is so important…

it pretty much holds

us all together,

keeping our inside bits from falling out.

 Sometimes, our skin needs

a little tender love and care…

Vaseline is like a magic formula,

designed to help our skin

through it’s driest, toughest days.

 It’s cheap and easy to use.

In Australia,

it’s very easy to buy and,

 Vaseline is an insignificant product…

For a little boy in Indonesia,

Vaseline is the most incredibly

 amazing product in his world…

and he needs it

– but cannot buy it.

 

In a small, remote Balinese

 village lives Komang.

He’s four years old.

Komang suffers from an

extremely rare skin condition.

 It should have killed him.

His skin looks as though

it is covered in scales

 and he cannot close his eyelids.

Komang’s rare genetic condition

is known as harlequin ichthyosis.

This disease kills most babies

soon after they are born.

But Komang…

he’s a fighter.

Enter Helen Flavel…

an Aussie charity worker

who saw Komang.

She took photos of his skin

 and sent them to a dietician,

 who diagnosed Komang’s disease.

 Harlequin ichthyosis has no cure…

 but the treatment for Komang…

 easy…

Vaseline.

The problem…

 it’s not sold in Indonesia. 

The answer…

Aussies are holidaying in Bali

 and bringing jars of Vaseline

with them to Bali.

Tourists are dropping in

at The Bamboo Bar and Grill in Kuta

 and leaving jars of Vaseline

on the counter…

presents for Komang.

Komang’s father, Wayan,

has said how incredible

the change has been,

in just a few weeks.

Komang’s eyelashes

are now growing and…

now, he can feed himself

with a spoon.

All because of Vaseline…

and the care of a charity worker,

 a dietician and

Vaseline toting Aussies.

(Through HCH –

Helping Children Heal’s facebook page,

 I learned there is another boy…

 Gede, who is also suffering less,

 thanks to Vaseline.)

 

Spread the word!

Who's Your Hero?

Comic Book Day

Predictably, there is no f

ormal information on

Comic Book Day.

It’s simply a day for us

to enjoy comic books. 

I never really got into these 

as a kid.

But, some people

sure do love them!

The highest comic book price –

ever was for Action Comics #1.

 How much?

$1.5 million!

Too much for you?

 

How about the second best…

Amazing Fantasy #15 for $1million…

Marvel Comics #1

was the fifth highest

and was only $350,000.

The average money spent

on the top 300 comic books

each month is $284.44million.

  million…

a month!

And the average price of a

top selling comic book is only $3.44.

 That’s a lot of comic book readers!

Today’s the day to start

a new hobby…

go read a comic book!

 

(I’m guessing these statistics

are for the US –

though they could be world-wide…

It just seems so high!)

 

Happy Birthday, Donald!

Donald Duck’s birthday

 is finally here. 

I have been waiting excitedly

for this day all year!

1934 was his birth year.

He is sooo old!

Of course,

no cartoon animal

comes to life without

 a real person’s voice. 

 Donald stole his voice

from Clarence “Ducky” Nash

for 50 years. 

Today, Donald’s voice

comes from Tony Anselmo.

He can be a feisty little guy

– but you would be too,

if you never wore underpants

 and everyone was watching you!

He also wears that sailor shirt…

 Happy Birthday, Donald!

Photo from here.

For Families

Need an excuse to get together

with the family? 

Been a while

since you picked up the phone? 

The 15^th of May is

 International Day Of Families. 

Sounds like a get-together

excuse to me! 

You might like to arrange

a dinner for everyone

to get together and enjoy.

  I know I’ll be eating

Dad’s famous pies

for dinner tomorrow night!

  Oh, and it’s Straw Hat Day

– so now we all know

what we should wear

on our heads!

Happy International

day of Families!!

Rub it Out

I typed “rubbers”

into my Google Images search...

 with trepidation

and a little fear. 

For no reason! 

Today is Rubber/Eraser Day.

I remember,

“when I was young”,

how cool rubbers were. 

 There were so many colours

and sizes and types. 

 Some even smelled nicely,

 though few did a good job

 of rubbing out your work...

But, then again,

you couldn’t use

any of the rubbers

in your rubber collection! 

They were too good!

Imagine how much bragging power

you would have

if these rubbers

were in your rubber collection! 

 (I do remember being separated

from a friend in Year Four

 because we had built a house

for our (very plain and boring)

rubbers! 

Today’s a day for me

to re-live a time

 from my childhood!

 Photos from here,

here and here.

Pray for us, Saint Patrick

My grandfather was a character...

cheeky and fun.

I'm so lucky that every memory I have of him

is a happy one.

When I first remember getting to know him, he was a bit scary. I'm not even sure why. I guess - very simply, he was a stranger.

As an adult, I read through his diaries...

kept religiously, over the years.

Reading the first few pages felt a little rude -

a little... intrusive.

Soon, I was swept up in the routines of his life, the casual funny comments thrown in amongst the planting of tomatoes and the picking of beans.

It was surprising to see how he had written little things we had done - things that wouldn't seem to be of interest to him.

He fought to keep his drivers licence until the end - reminding me of that green Kingswood and the way he huddled over the steering wheel, pretending to speed through the town....

He was angry at his doctors for putting him on a diet. By the second day, he was starving and counting down the minutes until lunch! (Oh, nan's roast!)

He was just another guy...

But he was my grandfather.

His Irish blood coursed through him

- and every year...

without fail...

he wrote in his diary -

Pray for us, St Patrick.

He's not here to write it now....

So, I will, instead.

"Pray for us, St Patrick".

A Stranger Passed By

A Stranger Passed By

I ran into a stranger as he passed by. "Oh, excuse me please" was my reply. He said, "Please, excuse me too, Wasn't even watching for you." We were very polite, this stranger and I. We went on our way and we said good-bye. But at home a different story is told, How we treat our loved ones, young and old. Later that day, cooking the evening meal, My daughter stood beside me very still. When I turned, I nearly knocked her down. "Move out of the way," I said with a frown. She walked away, her little heart broken at how harshly I had spoken. While I lay awake in bed, God's still small voice came to me and said, "While dealing with a stranger, common courtesy you use, But the children you love, you seem to abuse. Look on the kitchen floor, You'll find some flowers there by the door. Those are the flowers she brought for you. She picked them herself, pink, yellow and blue.

She stood quietly not to spoil the surprise, And you never saw the tears in her eyes. "By this time, I felt very small, and now my tears began to fall. I quietly went and knelt by her bed; "Wake up, little girl, wake up," I said. "Are these the flowers you picked for me?" She smiled, "I found 'em, out by the tree. I picked 'em, because they're pretty like you. I knew you'd like'em, especially the blue. I said, "Daughter, I'm sorry for the way I acted today; I shouldn't have yelled at you that way." She said, "Oh, Mom, that's okay. I love you anyway." I said, "Daughter, I love you too, And I do like the flowers, especially the blue."

I was looking for something to use at Toastmasters tomorrow night. I have to read or say something inspirational. I can relate to this one. I know, working with children every day, that there are times when I probably do this. To my credit, I do know when I am wrong and always acknowledge my mistakes to the little person involved. Tomorrow, I'll try especially hard to notice the blue flowers.

http://www.rogerknapp.com/inspire/strangerpassed.htm

The Dog

I know it’s there. The dog. The huge, ferocious dog. Its got big, yellow teeth, putrid breath and thick, black fur.

Remember when you were young... remember being told to go to bed? Who had to turn out the light? Was it you? Did you race a brother or sister so that you wouldn’t have to turn off the light? Did you beg and plead with a parent to do it for you? Or maybe, you left the light on...

I had to turn out my own light. I’d be in my room, playing or reading and mum would call out... words I dreaded to hear. Words I hated and feared...

“Lights out!”

I’d take a huge breath and plan my next moves. If I stood on the edge of the bed and leapt to that spot on the carpet, I’d only need one more step to reach the light-switch – then one huge lunge would get me back to my bed. Ok.

Big breath in – hold it! OK, GO! JUMP! STEP! Light-switch! LUNGE! BED! FREEZE!

Eyes – darting into the blackened corners of the room. Head still. Hold my breath – it’ll hear me breathe! Heart - pounding against my chest. Eyes - still darting. Ears pricked - listening... waiting... waiting.

What was that?! The putrid stink of the dog’s breath hits my nostrils. I feel its yellow eyes watching me in the darkness. Hairs on the back of my neck are standing on edge. I’m waiting for the yellow teeth to plunge into my neck.

My eyes slowly adjust to the darkness... I start to breathe. My heart stops pounding so heavily against my chest. Slowly... Slowly... Slowly... I start to calm down.

It didn’t get me tonight. Tonight I avoided the big, black, ferocious dog... the dog which lives under my bed when the room is dark.

I can’t remember when I outgrew this fear. I can’t remember when the darkened corners of the bedroom stopped being so scary. I do remember the feelings... I wonder if that dog will be waiting under my bed tonight...