Shows 3 and 4

Our third show was for a large company here in Saint Soupplets, and one that I'd rather not harp on for the simple embarrassing fact that I, ....... fell off stage. Thankfully it was only a 3 foot fall and in my defense it was during a song where we had to look to the ceiling whilst waltzing forwards. Nevertheless I am now nursing a rather bruised ego and a even more bruised right foot which took the brunt of my fall. The next day we had another show so chinese style, my foot was bound to stop the blood rush rather than foot growth and off we went to Centre Parcs where we cajoled men from the Squash Courts to come and watch a bunch of dancing, singing Mother Christmas... but that in itself is a whole other story

You see the far too happy smiles on everyone's faces? this picture was taken right after my fall

NATO show

Saturday morning dawned but there was no rest for the wicked. The 10 members of the show troupe were up at 6 eating breakfast and running around trying to find that last missing ballet shoe. We were off to brussels for intense security checks and a performance at the NATO headquarters. They found a bomb dating from the second world war whilst we were there so there was a controlled explosion. Here are 2 pictures for your amusement

A Rare Mongolian Rabbit

Someone gave me a copy of "Chocolate for a Mother's Heart" recently ( kind of a sweeter version of chicken soup for the soul ). Why and what would inspire someone to give me a book like this is beyond me, all that rubbish about cancers being the motherly type I believe is a fabrication to help to ease into our motherhood role when it finally comes around ( and it does happen to almost everyone, whether chosen or accidental ). Anyways I did read it and found this story, I know alot of people who have a "rare mongolian rabbit" right now, and I though this might lift some spirits...

THE RARE MONGOLIAN RABBIT” story by Maureen Nunn from the book Chocolate For A Mother’s Heart

Perhaps the frequency with which it so often happens nowadays should have lessened the pain; misery does love company; after all. But hearing that my husband's job would be "phased out" was unforgettable and shocking.

John, my husband of ten years, expressed his concern over this nightmare occurrence. He assured me that he would do everything possible to get a job to provide for our family. With three children under the age of five and one due very shortly, we relied on his income entirely.

"Life goes on," John said, more outwardly upbeat than I over the situation. "We have our health, and after all, it's only a job. Besides, the company will continue paying me for three more months. I'll surely have a new job by then. Just relax and don't worry:"

With his excellent university and professional credentials, I figured he must be right. He was a former Olympic athlete and knew about taking on a challenge. His father died when John was young, so he took on the responsibility of keeping his mother, sister, and brother together. My husband knew how to work hard and smart. But as the months passed and no job possibilities materialized for him, I grew more and more fearful and less "faith-abiding." What if he couldn't find a job? Under other circumstances I could have returned to classroom teaching, but our fourth child was due in less than three months.

With little money in our savings account, the mortgage payment two months behind, and no possible income from any other source, I whittled away at our daily-living budget.

Eventually our food budget became almost nonexistent. One day while in the supermarket with my children, I noticed a young box boy packing overly ripe fruit and outdated food into cardboard boxes. Hesitantly, I inquired about the destination of the food. "We sell it real cheap, and whatever isn't sold is thrown away," he said. I eyed the aging carrots, celery, and tomatoes. Food we could use for weeks. What, I wondered, is the proper etiquette for begging for food for one's children?

"We have a rare Mongolian rabbit!” I heard myself blurt out, glancing at my three hungry children. "I'd' be interested in purchasing the food for the rabbit."

He replied easily, "Since it's just a rabbit, there won't be any charge."

That day he loaded five boxes of produce into my car. We talked while he worked, me sharing information about my soon-to-be-expanding family and him talking about his. His name was Jeff. I learned he came from a family of five where finances were tight. This job helped pay for his college education.

Weeks went by, and Jeff began packing the boxes with outdated or damaged items - peanut butter, soup, and cheese - that were otherwise still good but would be thrown away. "Surely a rare rabbit would eat all these items," he said, explaining their inclusion. As the weeks turned into months, we discovered, hidden under the produce, laundry detergent, milk, juice, butter. . . the list goes on and on. Jeff started phoning me every time he had a box of "rabbit food" ready. Now and then, he brought the boxes to our home. He never inquired after the rabbit, content instead to leave its food and be on his way.

When our fourth daughter was born, my elation was tinged with worry about our financial future. "0 Lord, please," I begged. "You promised you would never give us more than we can handle. What do you want us to do? Help!"

My husband slipped into the hospital room and said, "I have good news and sad news. The good news is that this morning I've been offered a very exciting job." I closed my eyes and thanked God for his many blessings. "The sad news," he continued, "is that the rare Mongolian rabbit is gone."

It turned out Jeff no longer worked at the supermarket. While I'd been busy with the birth of our new baby, he had moved, the manager said, and left no forwarding address.

Over the next ten years I made good on my silent promise to repay the kindness of all who had helped us throughout that difficult time. But my thanks were incomplete. Then one day, a decade later, there was Jeff standing in the store's office. I noticed the title MANAGER on his name badge.

How does one adequately thank the person who offers assistance without compromising your pride, extends a hand without sapping your strength, and believes in the rare Mongolian rabbits hiding somewhere in each of our lives? I'm not surprised Jeff's risen up the ranks. He has a rare gift. He knew how to listen loudly to my special plea.

"Mrs. Nunn!" he exclaimed, I think of you and your family often. How is the rabbit?" he inquired softly.

Taking Jeff's hands into mine, I whispered with a wink, "Thanks for asking. The rabbit moved on long ago, and we couldn't be better."

Autumn through a Nikon D 60

When the sun comes out in ireland or more fittingly put, when the rain stops re-rinsing your laundry, you better grab the opportunity to do whatever it is normal, sunny people get to do. This is why my little sister found me shaking her from a late-night poetry writing induced sleep at 9 in the morning on her free day, (apparently a crime punishable by long sullen silences if done to teenagers ). "Wake up" I squeal at 95 decibels ( also another morning crime ) " the sun is shining, the clouds aren't raining and we are not going to miss this chance to turn me into America's next top model and you into America's next top fashion photographer (Disclaimer: I did not actually say this but it sounded conceited which apparently fits just perfectly into the image some people like to have of me so I'll leave it in there for their sakes ... enjoy ). Moving on ... it does bother me that I'm usually the one in front of the lens instead of the one behind it, but since my sisters are not on God's most yielded list, combined with the fact that there IQ level of how to use our Nikon is far higher than mine .... things usually ends up like this..........

( p.s. as with all good Angus photos (Amber excluded ), none of these are photoshopped except to add a border. The concepts were joint, between Noelle and I. Credits to her for the photography, Mom for her Isa Dora make up kit, and God for coming up with the genious idea of autumn )

Dance, in le france

Here are a couple bloopers of our dance practice. We filmed mainly to see placements and mistakes we make, more to come. Things are going well and besides a bruised bottom, the dancing has been doing its job of keeping the french cheese from making the aforementioned body part, any bigger.

Summer and Tides

I've neglected yet again... but its taken me this long to get over the PSMing heterosexual blonde at border control into Ukraine, who despite my best attempts at learning "please", "thank you" and " those gold teeth are so you" in Russian, refused to let that beetroot painted frownn upside down. Summer here has in true Irish fashion turned into a European monsoon, except for one weekend, in late august, where instead of getting wet by the rain, we chose to go surfing and and fishing, just to see if we were missing out on anything by choosing the freshwater showers.

see that fish, thats my first catch fish

The Alhambra and Venice

I'd love to go into detail about these two wonders of the world but word would fail me and my typing attention span isn't that long. It's suffice to say that these two places should be on everyone's bucket list. Thanks to Desi and Manu who came with us to the Alhambra and Juan + his adorable kids who took me around Venice

Picture Perfect or Picture Perverted

I'v starting to wonder recently what really makes a good photographer, because to be honest, these days what you think is a good photo can lie to you almost as well as a 2 ft long nose owning Pinocchio. You wonder what I mean by this? First of all lets get down to the core of the matter which is a good portion of the population getting a sudden urge to pick up a camera and play paparazzi, either with humans or nature ( I'm not complaining here as there have been some excellent shots from people's learning evolution. ) There has however, a been an unnaturally large surge in people buying cameras, quoting focal numbers and calling themselves " artists". So what does make a good photo? In years gone by it was good composition, a comprehensive understanding of how your camera works and some knowledge of the workings of light and optics. That, however is no longer a pre-requesit of a decent looking photo, as it has been replaced by that dreaded yet fateful crutch .... PHOTOSHOP , or for the more sophisticated of you Adobe Lightroom. Goodness how the masterminds have grown ! Once something preserved for teenagers who had sugar addictions and wanted to cover up the ensuing evidence on their skin, or Britney Spears' chronic cellulite, has now seem to become the natural process every photo goes through before being published. Lighting changes, over exposure or underexposure corrected, glows, shines, darkness, light effects, colour enhancements, and yes, the acne fix for those of us who are now ruining our liver etc. The list is endless, you name it and enough hours sat in front of your computer with photoshop as your loving guide will fix it. Some incredible pictures have come out of this process; unfortunately this leaves us with a dilemma. When a stunning photograph is view the question must be asked " did you really take this photo?" or was it just you, your photo, and photoshop in a steamy, colourful five hour threesome that produced this masterpiece. I'll leave you with the closest thing I can find to an example of what I mean, kindly donated by my sister amber, quite the mastermind with photoshop, but thankfully for other's badly taken pictures and not her own

Disclaimer: I do myself own a copy of Photoshop CS3 but my level of using competence is still at the teenaged skin problem stage. I also do own or co-own a Nikon D60 and enjoy experimenting, but do not profess any knowledge of how to use it professionally, only rediscovering a week ago that aperture and shutter speed are somewhat proportional to one another

sunshine, sleeping bags, and soccer

After four months of a self inflicted fellowship fast it was time to get all 12 members of the other home over here for 2 days of mass united get out ( with couples split and put on opposite teams, just to make things that bit more..... interesting :D ) and kilos of pasta to keep us from possibly losing any weight from the pre mentioned activities. photographic evidence follows

I strongly dislike it when

. people who you know gossiped, maligned, and insulted you years ago now all of a sudden want to be your friends and make up because it is in their social interest

. people play at home politics

. people don't live up to their full potential because hard work scares them

. the ones with trustworthy faces turn out to be chronic liars

. people play the popularity ladder ( one hopes they fall and break their face sooner rather than later )

. people engage in conversation only when personal interest is involved

Emotions, a woman's own femme fatale

It's such a shameful irony that the thing that defines us as womenkind, also can be traced as the cause of most of our downfalls. Why is it that we insist time and time again on subjecting ourselves to the thing we know will only cause us pain and embarrassment in the end. Yes I am talking about our emotions, that raging torrent of a tsunami that washes over any clear thinking we may have possessed previously. The most shocking fact is that we willingly subject ourselves to this natural disaster on a daily basis comforting ourselves with the oh so cliche phrase " it shows im a human and have a heart." Then we sit back and wonder why our male counterparts sometime are really quite clueless to our "eccentric behavior" and come to the conclusion that these aliens from Venus really aren't to be taken seriously. Unfortunately this is still a man's world and until we start acting a bit more like the predictable creatures men are, we will never succeed far in the business world. For who would want to work with something so unpredictable when in this line of work your job life is dependent on the ability to predict your customers, trends in the market and employees. Goodness this sounds like its turned into another self-help lecture aimed at the author.

Marmite and then some

Taking the love of marmite toast to a whole new level, which in this case is only a pleasure. I saw this ad whilst out and had to share it hoping to win some new converts..... ladies :D

All creatures great and small

For all those of you who might believe I think of animals ( the real ones that God made, not that person who voted against your point last home council ) as only a financial nuisance, here is to prove otherwise. Arguably though, none of these "little creatures" actually belong to me.....

Shooting with a purpose

Because violence and love can be combined in complementary amounts . Hoping you all get mortally wounded this year xxxxxx

Snow Surfing

A concept that only the most senior of Angus' could come up with in such harsh weather conditions. Ireland had a week of a mini ice-age, ( I'm supposing God is trying to prepare us for when he calls us to be the first missionaries to the penguins in Antarctica ). Anyways surfing was definitely off limits for all those wanting to keep their extremities frostbite-free. So Mr. Steve,determined not to let this deter our extreme sport outings, takes us snow surfing........ see for yourself

New Years

The Dublin home invited us to go clubbing with them on the 30th as a bit of a warm up to New Years Eve. No photos of that event or any that were taken were probably just as swiftly deleted so that our FD status could be retained. On the 31st we decided that paying 5 euros to get into a club and attempt to side step to techno, whilst reminding testosterone filled young men to keep their hand to themselves, was a bit of an excess expense. House parties combined with your sister's birthday, as you will see, can be quite fun.