Eternity is 20 Seconds Long

Hi dear friends and Followers. It is nice to see you here, today I have a strange but interesting fable for you. Take five, relax and enjoy.  

Eternity is 20 Seconds Long

Paul Trembling

Kev adjusted his position in the hammock, just enough to look round.

Beyond the shade cast by the trees, the beach was ablaze with sunlight. The glare from the white sand would have been painful if it hadn't been for his sunglasses. Even with them, the flicking pinpoints of light from the sea stabbed sharply into his retina.

There was still ice in the bucket, though, and the drinks were cold.
Along the beach, he could see the girl coming back towards him. The bright orange bikini glowed against her tanned skin. She waved.

He'd promised her a special experience. She didn't know how special it would be. They would have the time of their lives. A very long time. He waved back.

Everything was perfect. Now was the moment.

The device resting on his chest looked like an irregular collection of cylinders, in several different shades of red to purple. The interface unit attached to the side was a crude human intrusion, but necessary. He picked up his PalmPC, linked in to the interface, brought up the programme.

Took a deep breath and hit go.

The rush of alien symbols across the screen was as expected - but surely that configuration was wrong? Alarmed, Kev reached a finger to the abort icon….

DISCONTINUITY

"That's the loop point."

Kev adjusted his position in the hammock, just enough to look round.

Beyond the shade cast by the trees, the beach was ablaze with sunlight. The glare from the white sand would have been painful if it hadn't been for his sunglasses. Even with them, the flicking pinpoints of light from the sea stabbed sharply into his retina.

"How come he doesn't see us?"

"Different time streams. We weren't there then."

< 2 >
There was still ice in the bucket, though, and the drinks were cold.

Along the beach, he could see the girl coming back towards him. The bright orange bikini glowed against her tanned skin. She waved.

"What about the girl?"

"Outside the field, fortunately. If he'd set it differently, she'd be in there with him."

"How big could it have got?"

"We're not sure. Perhaps the entire planet."

He'd promised her a special experience. She didn't know how special it would be. They would have the time of their lives. A long time. He waved back.

"What was he trying to do?"

"We're not sure. Extend his holiday, perhaps."

Everything was perfect. Now was the moment.

The device resting on his chest looked like an irregular collection of cylinders, in several different shades of red to purple. The interface unit attached to the side was a crude human intrusion, but necessary.

"What is that thing?"

"Temporal field node. Part of a star-drive. Isha'hassat technology."

"How did he get hold of it?"

"That's being looked into. There's quite a black market in alien tech, but this is new. The Isha'hassat are upset about it."

He picked up his PalmPC, linked in to the interface, brought up the programme.

Took a deep breath and hit go.

The rush of alien symbols across the screen was as expected - but surely that configuration was wrong? Alarmed, Kev reached a finger to the abort icon….

DISCONTINUITY

< 3 >
"So what happened?"

"He set up a self-perpetuating temporal loop."

Kev adjusted his position in the hammock, just enough to look round.

"Can we stop it?"
"No. The controls are inside the loop. No one from outside can reach them."
Beyond the shade cast by the trees, the beach was ablaze with sunlight.

"So how long does it last?"

"Twenty seconds. Twenty point two five to be accurate."

The glare from the white sand would have been painful if it hadn't been for his sunglasses. Even with them, the flicking pinpoints of light from the sea stabbed sharply into his retina.

"No – I meant how long will it last? The time-loop-field thing?"

"From his point of view, twenty seconds. From ours – eternity."

There was still ice in the bucket, though, and the drinks were cold.

Along the beach, he could see the girl coming back towards him. The bright orange bikini glowed against her tanned skin. She waved.

"But what happens if the sun explodes – or something like that?"

"If the sun explodes in five billion years, will that affect you?"

He'd promised her a special experience. She didn't know how special it would be. They would have the time of their lives. A long time. He waved back.

"No."

"And it won't affect him either. For the same reason. He's in a different time. Always."

Everything was perfect. Now was the moment.

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Week.

✿ ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿

The Cubelli Lagoon

The Cubelli Lagoon

Hi dear friends and followers. I am pleased to see you here today and welcome you to my blog. Take a little time, relax and read this odd but interesting little story, thnak you  

In the southeast region of the provincial plains of Buenos Aires, you might come across the Cubelli Lagoon, familiarly known as the "Lake of the Dancing Alligator." This popular name is expressive and graphic, but — just as Doctor Ludwig Boitus established — it is inaccurate.

In the first place, "lagoon" and "lake" are distinct hydrographic occurrences. Secondly, though the alligator — Caiman yacare (Daudin), of the Alligatoridae family — is common to America, this lagoon is not the habitat for any species of alligator.

Its waters are extremely salty, and its fauna and flora are what you would expect for creatures that inhabit the sea. For this reason, it cannot be considered unusual that in this lagoon a population of approximately 130 marine crocodiles are to be found.

The "marine crocodile," that is, the Crocodilus porosus (Schneider), is the largest of all living reptiles. It commonly reaches a length of some seven meters (23 feet), weighing more than a ton. Doctor Boitus affirms having seen, along the coasts of Malaysia, several of them that were over nine meters (30 feet) in length, and, in fact, has taken and brought back photographs that supposedly prove the existence of such large individuals. But, as they were photographed in marine waters, without external points of reference, it is not possible to determine precisely if those crocodiles were truly the size attributed to them by Doctor Boitus. It would of course be absurd to doubt the word of an investigator with such a brilliant career (even though his language is rather baroque), but scientific rigor requires that the facts be validated by inflexible methods that, in this case, were not put to use.

Well then, it happens that the crocodiles of the Cubelli Lagoon possess exactly the taxonomic characteristics of those that live in the waters around India, China, and Malaysia; hence, they should by all rights be called marine crocodiles or Crocodili porosi. However, there are some differences,which Doctor Boitus has divided into morphological traits and ethological traits.

Among the former, the most important (or, better said, the only) is size. Whereas the marine crocodile of Asia can be up to seven meters long, the one we have in the Cubelli Lagoon scarcely reaches, in the best of cases, two meters (6 feet 6 inches), measuring from the tip of the snout to the tip of the tail.

Regarding its ethology, this crocodile is "fond of musically harmonized movements" according to Boitus (or, to use the simpler term preferred by those in the town of Cubelli, "dancing"). As anyone knows, as long as crocodiles are on land, they are as harmless as a flock of pigeons. They can only hunt and kill when in the water, which is their vital element. They trap their prey between their toothy jaws, then rotate rapidly, spinning until their victim is dead; their teeth have no masticatory function, being designed exclusively to imprison and swallow a victim whole.

If we go to the shores of the Cubelli Lagoon and start to play music, having previously chosen something appropriate for dancing, right away we will see that — let's not say all — almost all the crocodiles rise out of the water and, once on land, begin to dance to the beat of the tune in question.

For such anatomical and behavioral reasons, this saurian has received the name Crocodilus pusillus saltator (Boitus).

Their tastes are varied and eclectic, and they do not seem to distinguish between esthetically worthy music and music of little merit. Popular tunes delight them no less than symphonic compositions for ballet.

These crocodiles dance in an upright position, balancing only on their hind legs, reaching an average height of one meter, seventy centimeters (5 feet 8 inches). In order not to drag on the ground, their tails rise at an acute angle, roughly parallel to their spines. At the same time, their front limbs (which we could well call hands) follow the beat with various amusing gestures, while their yellow teeth form a wide smile, exuding enthusiasm and satisfaction.

Some townspeople are not in the least attracted by the idea of dancing with crocodiles, but many others do not share this aversion. It's a fact, every Saturday when the sun goes down they put on their party clothes and gather on the shore of the lagoon.There the Cubelli Social Club has set up everything necessary to make the evening unforgettable. Likewise, people can dine in the restaurant that has arisen not far from the dance floor.

The arms of the crocodile are rather short and cannot embrace the body of their partner. The gentleman or lady dancing with the male or female crocodile that has chosen them places both hands on one of their partner's shoulders. To achieve this, one's arms must be stretched to the maximum at a certain distance; as the snout of a crocodile is quite pronounced, one must take the precaution of standing as far back as possible. Though disagreeable episodes have occasionally occurred (such as nasal excision, explosion of ocular globes, or decapitation), it must not be forgotten that, as their teeth may contain the remains of cadavers, the breath of this reptile is far from being attractive.

According to Cubellian legend, occupying the small island in the center of the lagoon are the king and queen of the crocodiles, who it seems have never left it. They say they are each more than two centuries old and, perhaps owing to their advanced age, perhaps owing simply to whim, they have never wished to participate in the dances organized by the Social Club.

The get-togethers do not last much past midnight, for at that hour the crocodiles begin to tire, and maybe to get a little bored; in addition, they feel hungry and, as their access to the restaurant is prohibited, they want to return to the water in search of food.

When no more crocodiles remain on terra firma, the ladies and gentlemen go back to town, rather tired and a little sad, but with the hope that, maybe at the next dance, or perhaps at a later one, the crocodiles' king, or the queen, or even both together, might abandon their island for a few hours and participate in the party. If this were to happen, each gentleman, though he takes care not to show it, harbors the illusion that the queen of the crocodiles will choose him for her dance partner; the same is true of all the ladies, who dream of dancing with the king.

"La albufera de Cubelli" was originally published in Cuadernos del Minotauro (edited by Valent'n Pérez Venzalá), Ano IV, No. 6, Madrid, 2008, pp. 117-120. The present English version was translated from a slightly modified text.

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Week.

✿ ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿

Token Wolf on Council

Hi, dear friends and followers. Thank you for visiting my blog today.  I have a wonderful legend for you. Take 5, relax and enjoy. 

And now for something completely Kafkaesque. It's not exactly a Kafka story that I am about to share with you but it's a brief excursion into the realm of an alternate reality that I hope you will find interesting and worthy of your comments.

My thanks!

Token Wolf on Council

I looked up at the delicate wooden chair above me and whined softly at it. They knew I was coming, I thought, so why didn’t they put in a decent chair for me to sit on? I’m not going to fit in that. I turned to one of the elves that were setting up for the council meeting and spoke telepathically. Excuse me, but I cannot fit in the chair provided. I’d like to request a larger seat, preferably with cushions so that my claws don’t scratch it up. The elf looked down at me and blinked.

“Oh, you must be the new Warwolf council member.” He looked me up and down. “I suppose you wouldn’t fit in the chair at that. Would you fit in one of the ones designed for humans?”

It will be uncomfortable, but I can manage for today, I answered. I know there exist chairs designed for my people which are wider and with cushions. I’d like one of those tomorrow, please. Have you seen my interpreter?

“Your handler? I wouldn’t know what he looks like.”

Not a handler, an interpreter. I am a diplomat, not a pet. I need someone to speak my thoughts to humans and non-telepathic elves so that they can hear what I have to say. I cocked my head at the elf. If he doesn’t show up, would you like a promotion?

“I, um, err… am allergic to dogs. And wolves.” Behind his speech, I heard another different reason. The speaker for an abomination? I don’t think so.

I almost growled, but managed to restrain myself. It wasn’t as if my people’s existence as an intelligent race was our fault – a renegade elvish scientist had altered us from ordinary wolves. When the elvish government had found out what had happened, they had agreed to treat us as equals. Apparently what they said and what they did were two completely different things.

Then please help me find somebody who can act as interpreter! I do not intend to have my voice muffled because your government falls short in what they promised to provide.

“Yes yes,” said the elf, smelling rather harassed, who then turned to one of the other elves and said “You are a good telepath, Myralla, and you’ve just been volunteered to play interpreter for the wolf member of the council. His interpreter hasn’t shown up, and the council is starting in five minutes.”

he blinked, but agreed to help me. The first thing, I thought at her, is to find a human-style chair. I can’t fit in the elvish ones. 

After a little searching we located one and she dragged it to the table. I could have done that, but I would probably have damaged the finish with my teeth, and furniture polish tastes really bad. I thanked her and scrambled up into the chair. My official interpreter still hadn’t arrived and the

meeting was about to start so it looked like we were stuck with each other.High King Saeryl ki Irisen called the meeting to order, and we began. We were discussing the levies of metals and finished weaponry for the war. It didn’t really have much to do with me, since we Warwolves use little but our own bodies when we fight and do not create weapons or mine ore. I listened attentively anyway. Perhaps later we would come to something that I could usefully add to. It would be a shame not to speak at all after I went to all the trouble of bullying Myralla into interpreting for me.

The opportunity came, but not in any way I would have wished. I made the mistake of trying to drink from the water glass in front of me. It wobbled and fell over, spilling water across the council table. Everyone whisked their notes out of the way, and a servant went out to get a cloth to mop it up. I’m sorry, I thought at Myralla, but before she could speak the human sitting across from me spoke.

He looked at me with a sour expression and asked: “Excuse me, but is it really necessary to include a wolf in a discussion of weaponry? I don’t understand what right he has to be here.”

I started to growl and caught myself, thinking at Myralla instead. She spoke my thoughts: “Swift Runner apologizes for the water accident, but also says this: My people are sentient members of the High Kingdom, and a far larger proportion of us risk our lives daily in the war than do yours. We have every right to be here even if our methods of fighting and speaking differ from yours.”

“Is that you or the animal?” he asked.

“He is not an animal,” the High King said, sounding almost like he was going to growl himself. “He is a fellow council member and you will treat him as such. He speaks via telepathy and, therefore, must have someone to speak his thoughts aloud to those that cannot hear his mental voice. I can hear him perfectly well, and Myralla is only speaking what he dictates to her.”

The human spread his hands in embarrassment. “Sorry, Master Wolf.”

“It is forgiven. However, my name is Swift Runner, not Master Wolf.”

“Sorry.”

Wasn’t there some sort of debriefing given about my people? I wondered. Were you completely incommunicado during the extremely noisy scandal that occurred when the High Council discovered we were people rather than animals? I wouldn’t have thought it would be possible to miss that – especially considering this is that same council. Oh well, never mind.

That disruption over, the meeting continued.

Afterward the High King came over to me. “I do apologize for Prince Curyn’s behavior. His people have little experience with yours, and he is young and somewhat tactless.”

That is understandable. I assume that now he knows I do belong in your pack things will be easier.

“You looked like you were having trouble with the water glass.”

Yes, rather, I thought at him. It seems nobody thought to prepare any of the things a Warwolf on the council will need. The government-supplied interpreter never showed up either. I imagine they, the chair, and an explanation to the human members of the council got lost somewhere in the piles of paper.

“Indeed. I will issue instructions to relevant parties to make certain it does not happen again. I fear it may take time for both humans and elves to get used to your presence, but I do believe that you will be a useful member of this council.”
Thank you for your support. I will certainly do my best for both the High Kingdom and my own people. We are all of the same supra-pack, after all.

He nodded. “I must leave, but do let me know if you have problems of this sort again.”

My first council meeting over, I left the room. Hopefully now that the pack structure had been sorted out our discussions would be more useful. Perhaps I would not be such a token after all. I almost found myself looking forward to tomorrow.

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Week. 

✿ ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿

Princess Andromeda

Hi dear friends and followers. I am pleased to see you here. Today I have a story for you, the legend behind the name of the Andromeda Galaxy

Princess Andromeda
The Andromeda Galaxy (/ænˈdrɒmɨdə/) is a spiral galaxy approximately 780kiloparsecs (2.5 million light-years; 2.4×1019km) from Earth. Also known as Messier 31,M31, or NGC 224, it is often referred to as the Great Andromeda Nebula in older texts. The Andromeda Galaxy is the nearest major galaxy to the Milky Way, but not the nearest galaxy overall. It gets its name from the area of the sky in which it appears, theconstellation of Andromeda, which was named after the mythological princessAndromeda. The Andromeda Galaxy is the largest galaxy of the Local Group, which also contains the Milky Way, the Triangulum Galaxy, and about 44 other smaller galaxies.

The Andromeda Galaxy is the most massive galaxy in the Local Group as well. Despite earlier findings that suggested that the Milky Way contains more dark matter and could be the most massive in the grouping, the 2006 observations by the Spitzer Space Telescope revealed that M31 contains one trillion (1012) stars: at least twice the number of stars in the Milky Way, which is estimated to be 200–400 billion.

The Andromeda Galaxy is estimated to be 1.5×1012 solar masses while the mass of the Milky Way is estimated to be 8.5×1011 solar masses. In comparison a 2009 study estimated that the Milky Way and M31 are about equal in mass, while a 2006 study put the mass of the Milky Way at ~80% of the mass of the Andromeda Galaxy. The two galaxies are expected to collide in 3.75 billion years, eventually merging to form a giantelliptical galaxy or perhaps a large disk galaxy.

At 3.4, the apparent magnitude of the Andromeda Galaxy is one of the brightest of anyMessier objects, making it visible to the naked eye on moonless nights even when viewed from areas with moderate light pollution. Although it appears more than six times as wide as the full Moon when photographed through a larger telescope, only the brighter central region is visible to the naked eye or

 when viewed using binoculars or a small telescope.

Andromeda is a princess featured in the heroic Greek legends. She had the misfortune to be the daughter of the vain Cassiopeia, wife of King Cepheus of Aethiopia. Cepheus was the mythological king of Ethiopia. He was deemed worthy of a place in the sky because he was fourth in descent from the nymph Io, one of the loves of Zeus – and having Zeus as a relative was always an advantage when it came to being commemorated among the constellations.

The kingdom of Cepheus was not the Ethiopia we know today, but stretched from the south-eastern shore of the Mediterranean southwards to the Red Sea, an area that contains parts of the modern Israel, Jordan and Egypt. Ptolemy described him as wearing the tiara-like head-dress of a Persian king.

Cepheus was married to Cassiopeia, an unbearably vain woman whose boastfulness caused Poseidon to send a sea monster, Cetus, to ravage the shores of Cepheus’s kingdom. Cepheus was instructed by the Oracle of Ammon to chain his daughter Andromeda to a rock in sacrifice to the monster. She was saved by the hero Perseus, who killed the monster and claimed Andromeda for his bride.

King Cepheus laid on a sumptuous banquet at his palace to celebrate the wedding. But Andromeda had already been promised to Phineus, brother of Cepheus. While the celebrations were in progress, Phineus and his followers burst in, demanding that Andromeda be handed over, which Cepheus refused to do. The dreadful battle that ensued is described in gory detail by Ovid in Book V of his Metamorphoses. Cepheus retired from the scene, muttering that he had done his best, and left Perseus to defend himself. Perseus cut down many of his attackers, turning the remainder to stone by showing them the Gorgon’s head.

The constellation of Cepheus lies near the north celestial pole. Its most celebrated star is Delta Cephei, a pulsating supergiant star that varies in brightness every 5.4 days. It is the prototype of the Cepheid variable stars that astronomers use for estimating distances in space.

Perseus would go on to be the founder of Mycenae where Andromeda would be queen, but first, she gave birth to their first son, Perses, who stayed behind to rule when his grandfather died. (Perses is considered the eponymous father of the Persians.)

Perseus and Andromeda's children were these sons: Perses, Alcaeus, Sthenelus, Heleus, Mentor, Electryon, and a daughter, Gorgophone.

After her death, Andromeda was placed among the stars as the Andromeda constellation. The monster who was sent to ravage Aethiopia was also turned into a constellation, Cetus.

Andromeda was the name of a TV series by Gene Roddenberry, starring Kevin Sorbo, the actor who played Hercules in the TV series.

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Week.

✿ ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿

KEEPING IT REAL with FRIZZY LIZZY

Hi dear friends and followers, thank you, and welcome to my blog 

KEEPING IT REAL with FRIZZY LIZZY

Greetings, Everyone, and thank you so much for sharing your time with me! I am thrilled to see you!

Sometimes I have a logjam in my mind, and I don't know what to write. You don't need to hear about my bad times because you have your own to handle, and I can't always think of a funny story that will fill two or three pages. What to do? If you allow me, I will share some short, short stories with you as they come into my mind. Either you'll like them or you will send this feature and me into earlier retirement than I had planned. Here goes!

As soon as I left the military I tried a job selling life, accident, health, fire, and auto insurance. I was trained by the owner of an insurance agency in a small town not very far away from the farm where I was living at the time.

For a variety of reasons, mainly because I was too young to understand the power of being in business for myself, that opportunity did not go well for me. I then found work in a factory in the same locality. I mentioned this job to you earlier.

That part of Pennsylvania has a problem keeping jobs in the manufacturing sector. In 16 months, the plant closed, and I was out of a job and collecting employment insurance benefits. $90 a week is what I was being paid back then. My job was paying $180 a week. The sooner I found work, the better.

I watched the newspaper (there was only one in the region) for advertisements of jobs, and finally I heard of one. It was an opening at a trucking terminal for a freight driver dispatcher. I was not sure what the job entailed so I called my father and asked him. He got me in contact with a man who retired from the trucking industry who told me that it was mentally and emotionally tough work. I did not shy away from that challenge, and I arranged for an interview with a fellow, one Mr. Babb.

It was January, and snow and mud and slush were all over the place, but I decided not to wear my barnyard boots and went with my best pair of dress shoes on instead. They were not polished, but I figured that no one would object. Right.

Mr. Babb met me and we talked for a few minutes. I was not impressed with him. He was a little guy, and I was taller than him. It was possible that he felt intimidated by a woman who was just a tiny bit under 6 feet (183 cm) tall. He decided to show me who was boss by asking me why my shoes were not polished. I was not going to offer excuses like the mud in his firm's parking lot or the winter weather. They made more sense than his silly question, so I asked him if he needed a shoe polisher instead of a freight dispatcher. I never worked a day in the trucking industry.

Over time, I moved to the Washington, DC area where I lived for 28 years and had a fulfilling career. I moved rapidly up the ladder in purchasing, from an inventory control technician to a senior contract specialist.

It was 1985, as I recall, when my second ex and I went to Florida with that other couple that I wrote about a few weeks ago. We agreed with them that we would wander freely during the daytime and meet with them in the evening for supper.

That was my first trip to Florida, and I liked what I saw. The climate was hospitable, and the people I had met were nice. Visions of living there began to come into my daydreams to such a degree that I began to look at the local newspapers to see what kind of jobs were available.

I did find one that interested me. It was for a position as a buyer and production control coordinator. I had performed both of those functions in the past, so I called the potential employer and spoke to the hiring manager and told her that I was in town on vacation, but I wanted to move there.

She asked me many questions to which I had the correct answers. I was a qualified candidate, or so I was told. Then came the fun part: salary. She asked me what I wanted. I replied that I was, and these were my exact words, “...hot shot northern talent. What is that worth to you?”

Her reply startled me, and I told her so. She asked by how much was it too little. I replied that I could hire her part-time, with benefits, for the difference between what I earned up north and what she was offering in Florida.

As you can see, so much of my life revolves around my work. I never had children. It's not that I didn't want them, I just never had any. Mother Nature can play tricks on a body. Without children, I had to do something to fill my life so I became the best I could be at the work that I did. And I loved it. My work got to be more like my play!

I was seldom scared when I interviewed for a job, even if I hated the one I was looking to leave. I was always confident on the outside like I was in this exchange I had with a hiring manager about a job that offered me a 50% raise in salary:

Manager: “There are ten applicants for this job, and you're the first to be interviewed.”

Me: “That's either very good or very bad.”

Manager: “What do you mean by that?”

Me: “It's very good if I impress you so much that the other 9 are just an obligation that you need to perform. It's very bad if I do so poorly in this interview that anyone else could get this job.”

Manager: “You're one of the few people I have met who knows how to go after a job.”

I sent him a letter of thanks after that interview, on the same day. I got that job.

My work life has taken me places and shown me things that the average woman never thinks of, much less sees. I have been in the bowels of an ocean-going tanker ship and inside of a working lighthouse. I have walked in subway tunnels and on the raised deck floor of a computer room, back when mainframe architecture was still the standard and cloud computing was not yet a possibility. I have been on all levels of an office building, from the boiler room to the roof, and inside the machinery spaces, like the elevator motor room and hoist way. It's been a lot of fun.

But the greatest experience that I had during all of those years is meeting the wonderful people who have made my life that much richer. And I need to thank one man who gave me a tool for interviews that I have never forgotten how to use. His name is Rick Smith, and he was the manager of a machine shop in Pennsylvania. He taught me that the one who asks the questions is the one who controls the interview when I asked him how to handle the most uncomfortable of interview questions: Tell me about yourself.

Please ask if you want to know the answer that he gave me.

Thank you for sharing your weekend time with me. Have a much-blessed Easter weekend!

Thank you very much again, dear friends, for visiting my blog. Please share your thoughts with us, if you will. have a great Weekend.

✿ ڰۣ❤In Loving Light from the Fairy Lady❤ڰۣ✿