Camera Flash Damage Newborn Eyes

Friday, March 4, 2011 I love this picture

The trees are still bare

They still make the scene

fields invaded Mole traps, that's life underground

The only greenery is the Scots ivy parasites

The mist softens the prospect

The sunny hillsides

branches of winter are comfortable under the sun shy

There, responsible, quiet hamlets

such beautiful foliage

campaign Berry is my haven of love

The cruel wind North-East had sold its up to a bit of breeze, cool, certainly, but not bad. Mist, light blue, failed to hide the mountain-side villages. The walk was quiet, awe, slow, meditative. In agreement with nature that leaves caressed by scouts this spring, the smells, the colors of a misty purple, the cries of birds that streak the sky clear snorting, smoothed their feathers in winter.

As I walked I thought that seven years ago disappeared Claude Nougaro, ten days before my son ...

Bleeding A Lot After Giving Birth

was a winter morning. The distant sound of guns and hounds was a threat. They were there beside me, confident, reassured, not moving at my approach. A beautiful moment.

Make Sour Cream And Onion Flavoured Popcorn

Go to the bathroom! In the hamlet there is

Ah! as the morning was engaging!

Blogger Lgbt Dyke .jp

buddies! Thursday, February 3, 2011

Alotta Fagina Cleavage

Is it normal for a Prime Minister saying no one bronchus to the National Assembly "our compatriots Muslim origin "? I believed that Islam is a religion, not a country where you can be born. So that's a first slip. It is a good start.

Picnik Friendsip Quote

it was time ...

... give a little news ..

preparation continues on its merry way, despite a ruling "flu" this week.

in January
30H sports and a dozen powder
27km swim 330km bike

140km walk

in February
43h sport
42km swim 480km bike

147km walk


program Race 23 March 2011
10 miles LLN
April 24 Douai
Duathlon Sprint Triathlon July 3 July 17 triathlon calais
cd etaples
August 7 Ironman Regensburg

Does The Stomach Flu Delay A Period?

Alzheimer Message Annie Girardot

To which my age - 74 years - the road is fraught with irreparable absence, disqualification tragic, flowers faded, memories confused, hopeless pain, of miss devouring futures unlikely.

So we look at the buds ready to burst, flowers that last cold calls for caution, still closed, live singing waters, skies full of cheerful migrant birds flying sumptuous, and, quietly, it provides the missing.