Needless to say that I saw a lot of animals while in Kenya.

I don't know how it is today, but back then they were everywhere in the national parks.

Here is some of the Rhinos we saw.












Elephants were plentiful.




Lots of cheetahs.










And lots of lions.



























Their kittens.










Lots of Hippos (Lots of these in Lake victoria) and they would be grazing on the golf course across the street.



Hyenas




The vultures eating the remains of the kills.




And of cause loads of zebras and various gazelles.

One evening while staying at the farm we went to the Hunter Valley gardens to check out the light show and the mega bugs.





There were lots of really creepy insects around the garden and they were all moving and making sounds.






The light show was also really good and there were a couple of new things compared to last year.



And we also spend a bit more time in the story garden.







And the story about girls and boys is 'different'...






...but maybe true for these little monkeys.

At the end of the summer holidays we made a trip up north to Broke (Hunter Valley) with the kids and some friends to stay at an Alpaca farm.




It didn't take long for Aiden to get comfortable with feeding the Alpacas but Lucas was a bit more hesitant and was happy to just observe or throw the food at them.










The Alpacas also provided them with a biology lesson teaching them about the bees and the flowers.




We also did a bit of wine tasting while we were in that part of the hunter.









But the kids were more interested in playing outside and chasing the cat.

My New Years resolution for this year is to get healthy.

By this I don't mean that I will try and become super fit and start running marathons. No, I just mean that I want to get to a stage where I feel healthy, do a bit of exercise, have a healthy mental state and generally eat healthy.

I started really well on this last year, but about half way through I started getting sick all the time (like every 2-3 weeks).

 


This time around I want to have 2 months without getting sick and then I will start some easy to moderate exercise again.

I want to see if I can get back to running again.

Here is a fun little street sign. This is a place I wanna live...

Last night Kim and I went to the show Velvet at the Sydney Opera House.

It was a combination of circus, burlesque and boogie nights (70's music) in one show.




The show had great music with Marcia Hines and Brendan Maclean and the performers were great. I think everyones favourite was the guy with the hula hoops.

I don't know for sure which ones are Claus and which ones are Rene.

This post is mostly about Claus when he was at his top as one of Denmarks top tennis players.

I have kept scans of all the newspaper clippings from when he was winning a lot of tournaments.





























































In the mid 90's he started to get pretty sick and although he still tried to play tennis it was never at the same level again. Eventually he more or less gave up. His illness took to great a hold of him. These are some of the 'darkest' photos I have of him while he was struggling with his schizophrenia and were taken shortly before I moved to Australia.





He lost contact with most of his friends and was very dependent on my mum and dad as well as other support programs in place.







I prefer to remember him as he was before he passed away.


















This poem reminds me of him.

The morning after I killed myself, I woke up.

I made myself breakfast in bed. I added salt and pepper to my eggs and used my toast for a cheese and bacon sandwich. I squeezed a grapefruit into a juice glass. I scraped the ashes from the frying pan and rinsed the butter off the counter. I washed the dishes and folded the towels.
The morning after I killed myself, I fell in love. Not with the boy down the street or the middle school principal. Not with the everyday jogger or the grocer who always left the avocados out of the bag. I fell in love with my mother and the way she sat on the floor of my room holding each rock from my collection in her palms until they grew dark with sweat. I fell in love with my father down at the river as he placed my note into a bottle and sent it into the current. With my brother who once believed in unicorns but who now sat in his desk at school trying desperately to believe I still existed.

The morning after I killed myself, I walked the dog. I watched the way her tail twitched when a bird flew by or how her pace quickened at the sight of a cat. I saw the empty space in her eyes when she reached a stick and turned around to greet me so we could play catch but saw nothing but sky in my place. I stood by as strangers stroked her muzzle and she wilted beneath their touch like she did once for mine.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to the neighbors’ yard where I left my footprints in concrete as a two year old and examined how they were already fading. I picked a few daylilies and pulled a few weeds and watched the elderly woman through her window as she read the paper with the news of my death. I saw her husband spit tobacco into the kitchen sink and bring her her daily medication.

The morning after I killed myself, I watched the sun come up. Each orange tree opened like a hand and the kid down the street pointed out a single red cloud to his mother.

The morning after I killed myself, I went back to that body in the morgue and tried to talk some sense into her. I told her about the avocados and the stepping stones, the river and her parents. I told her about the sunsets and the dog and the beach.

The morning after I killed myself, I tried to unkill myself, but couldn’t finish what I started.

—Meggie Royer