Theres a lot of stuff this month... Lets start with the MEDIEVAL PARTY SNEAK PEEKS

NEW PIN

The Goblet Pin is at the Coffee Shop. Drag your Cursor over the lamp:

NEW STAGE THEME

The Twelfth Fish Stage Theme has returned. It was released in December, 2007.

NEW BACKGROUND

They have added a new Background to the catalog:

NEWSPAPER

Here are the upcoming events:

NEW ORGANIZATION OF INVENTORY

There is a new organization of your clothing system, its a 4 Filed Page, look:

NEW COMIC

There is also a new comic. Check it out!

GAME WITH FAME

CPIP UPDATE - MORE EVENTS

There will be a lot of new stuff this month, here a list billybob has made:

• A huge party with more information this week.
• New furniture catalog related to the next party.
• An awesome igloo contest!
• New furniture for your puffle
• New books written by some of you.
• New features.

The most important thing is that the CPIP (club penguin improvement project) Is going to be updated again. Visit here for more information . They will be updating the old test blog with updates on the free item and everything.

Well! Thats all!

CYA!

- Noil Man

Republicans do not want John McCain to be their nominee. He has only been able to become the front-runner because the field was so divided and because he’s a media darling. We can see just how unpopular McCain is in the heartland by his performance in the Kansas caucuses today. Kansans resoundingly rejected the Arizona senator, and McCain’s big wins so far have mostly been in blue states — states he won’t win in November if, heaven forbid, he’s the Republican nominee.

Republicans want and need an alternative. Some people think Mike Huckabee provides an alternative to McCain. But Huckabee, who now tries to sound like Ron Paul when he talks about abolishing the IRS, raised taxes in Arkansas and vastly expanded spending in that state when he was its governor. Huckabee is no alternative at all. Ron Paul, on the other hand, has never voted for a tax increase, never voted for an unbalanced budget or for an unconstitutional war or government program.

At stake here is not just the Republican nomination — which McCain still has not locked up — but the future of the Republican Party and, much more importantly, the future of our liberties. We have to organize in every single state, including the ones that have already voted in the primaries and caucuses, to continue the fight to take back the Republican Party and to ensure that Ron Paul’s principles, the principles of Washington and Jefferson, prevail. For the sake of that cause, Ron Paul’s campaign continues, all the way to the convention.

-Ron Paul group

I was a bachelor; 37 years and still aging. I can’t say I was suave or debonair. Because I wasn’t. I lived in my bachelor pad, I began to bald and wrinkle and grow width-wise. And for the most part, I was okay with it. Or at least used to it. I was an orphan—I had already seen a lot of the bad sort of collision. I was a twin; he had died at seven. But that’s another story in itself; I won’t go there. My parents collided with a semi when I was seventeen. My mom had just unbuckled her seatbelt to get a drink I had refused to—I had been mad at them. The last words I spoke to them—right before the collision—were “You guys can never understand—you don’t even have a life”. I can remember my dad cursing right before, telling me to shut up. And the semi had spun into oncoming traffic and our car had flipped; colliding with a barrier. I can still remember the sound my mom’s neck had made when it collided with the hood. I got a bit bitter, but eventually got over it. Well, came to accept it. I even went to church for a while, but I don’t think I was ever the same. And maybe that’s a good thing. In any case, I was alone and I was fine with that.

I had never been part of the in-crowd. As a young adult, I was attractive. But I was a geek. And that was a turn off to most. I’d get those flirting eyes from girls but as soon as they saw the pen in the pocket, they just started laughing and pointing. But that didn’t really matter to me; I didn’t like any of them. But I don’t really remember why; I can’t figure out why I don’t mind being reclusive or why I never bothered to date or...anything. I mean, I wasn’t one of those super geniuses—I didn’t start my own company or make billions. But, on the other hand, I also wasn’t working at some video game store or selling sci-fi books. I was comfortable, but I wasn’t living. And a collision made me see that—a good one…though it started out a little rough.

It was grocery time and I went to the store, going in for nothing more than green beans and chicken. I went to get a cart, bent down to pick up a piece of trash and suddenly I was lying on the ground, a cart slowly stopping by my head. I heard a curse and then I sort of zoned out—but not completely. A brunette kneeled down, freaking out and asking if everything was fine. She mumbled on about how she hadn’t seen me. Finally I sat up, blinking and looking around. The woman—she couldn’t have been more than thirty—touched my head, feeling the slow drip of blood. By now a small crowd had gathered. I stood, rather drunkenly, asking what had happened. The crowd eyed the woman angrily as she supported me, my arm draped around her neck. She just patted my back, telling me I was fine—she called me sweetie and kissed my cheek, leading me towards a bench. I was really confused and tried to walk away, but I was still seeing stars. She sat me down and told me, which, to her, was synonymous with honey or sweetie, to wait a second. Finally the crowd started to go and I just touched my head gently. She came running back with paper towels and a cop. I don’t think she meant for the latter to follow her because she swore under her breath as she sat next to me, seeing him coming closer.

“Good morning, officer!” she said, a smile tying at her lips. I was really confused. “This was just an awful accident!” she claimed, laughing lightly and touching my cheek again. “My husband here, he tripped right as I pushed my cart back into the…cart thing.” A nervous laugh and then she looked at me, her eyes pleading softly. I could almost see her whisper please, begging me to play along. I just nodded, my head starting to pound. Though I might have confused it with my heart; that was going wild too. Especially as she wrapped her arm around mine.

The officer stared at us, almost bored. “Well, as long as everything’s fine….”

The woman just laughed, pressing the towels to my head again. “It’s just fine…embarrassing, really.” That laugh was starting to get annoying. Luckily, as soon as the cop turned, she stopped. She handed the towels to me, looking nervously for her groceries and asking again if I was all right. I nodded warily and she started to leave. But I grabbed her arm again.

“Wait—what was that?”

“Listen,” she said, her eyes no longer laughing, “I really am sorry but I’ve gotta get going. Do you want money? Did you know someone here—your wife can yell at me later; but I really have to go now!”

“Wife?” I asked, my head starting to scream, “No, uh—no. What; why did you—”

And then I feinted, but not before I heard her curse. She did that a lot.

When I woke up, I was in a car and just as confused as ever. The woman was still by me, her hands pounding nervously on her wheel. I blinked quickly, nearly freaking out. She just looked at me, and whispered “finally”.

“Where do you live—I’ll drop you off.”

I shook my head, saying I would rather just walk. She laughed, a more bitter one than at the store. “Yeah right. I’d probably get arrested if I let you just walk off. Getting you out of the store was hard enough. Just tell me where you live—I promise I won’t stalk you. You’re not really my type.” She smiled at her own joke. I didn’t.

“Who are you?” I asked, not arguing but still scared for my life.

“My name’s Carline. Who are you?”

“Supposedly I’m your husband or your sweetie or something—something I wasn’t aware of before this morning.” She smiled, but it wasn’t a joke.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t want to deal with that crowd or you. I needed to get somewhere. Now, even that is doubtful. Now where do you live?”

“Carline, was it? I guess you’re not from here because you chose the worst street to drive down at this time. And my car—where is my car?”

Suddenly she looked scared. “You drove?” she whispered.

“Yes I drove! I’m not that old; I can still drive!”

“That’s not what I meant…. I just, I wasn’t thinking, okay? Can everyone just calm down?” But she was the only one screaming. I stared, now officially scared she’d rip my throat out or murder me on the highway. So I told her my street address and she cursed again.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Of course—why not? I mean, why would I think this day could be any good?”

I remaindered silent, she didn’t mind. She just went on.

“My boyfriend lives in that building. No, sorry, that would be my ex. The jerk slept with some blonde bimbo who can’t be more than twelve years old—on my birthday. Which was yesterday, which he forgot. And so I go to tell him off and—boom—some chick in a hooker outfit was making out with him. Oh, I told him off then. He almost called the cops, I got so loud. What is it with me and attracting crap?”

I’m not sure if it was a rhetorical question, but I wouldn’t dare answer it. I just stared at her, realizing I was indeed stuck in the twilight zone. I had never been so uncomfortable in my life. But she kept going.

“Does the traffic ever stop?” she screamed, slamming her fists on the horn and getting flipped off multiple times. “My life is some sort of hell-hole right now and what do I do? I go and knock some senior on his butt and now have to drive him to my ex’s place! There is no good in today.”

“Senior?” I scoffed, “I might be old, but not that old! And how can you be talking—your ex couldn’t have strayed that far from where he started! What are you; thirteen?”

She stared at me, a sharp laugh falling. “Oh, so the man has an attitude? No, I am very much not thirteen. I guess it just comes off that way, cuz the only guys I can get aren’t past puberty! What about you? You go for the younger chicks too?”

I rolled my eyes, “No, trust me.”

She sighed, looking back into the frozen traffic. “So what’s your name again?”

“Richard.”

She snorted and I scowled. “What is it now?”

“Nothing—I just can’t believe you’re not a senior with that name. I hope you gave your parents crap about that one.”

I actually laughed, only because it was true. And I had.

“So, Richard, what’s your story?”

“Excuse me?”

“Come on—this is going to take forever and I just told you my entire life! It’s the least you can do; I am driving you home.”

“Only because you threw a cart at my head and kidnapped me!”

She rolled her eyes, “Oh, come on! Real mature thought process. I mean, I would not kidnap you—what a waste of energy.”

I smiled, still not believing I was stuck here. She threw herself on the horn again, oblivious to the curses thrown back at her. “Okay, shy guy, I’ll make this easy for you. Where were you born?”

I sighed, already tired of this game. “Here. I’ve lived here all my life.”

She looked at me, her green eyes dazzling with unbelief. “Holy freak. How can you even stand that? I’ve been everywhere. Can’t stick in one place for more than a year or two. Don’t you wanna see something else? Please tell me you do not live with your parents.”

I shook my head, “They died when I was a kid.”

“Well, okay then. That works.” She didn’t get all depressed or sympathetic. Most people do. But she just smiled and moved on.

“’Kay, how ‘bout work.”

I stuttered for a moment. “Oh, grow up! I’m swear I’m not going to stalk you, steal your identity, none of that. I’m just really bored.”

So I told her. I had a cubicle job at a big company uptown. She found that more disturbing than my hometown history. She started lecturing me on how no one should have to work like that. That a box was so confining, that I should quit and move to Tahiti or something. Then she turned on the radio—really loud. And really not classical.

She laughed at my face, saying I was worse than her dad. But she turned it down. A little.

“Well, it’s my turn. Carline—did you choose that or were your parents just on drugs when you were born.”

“Well, duh. You obviously know little about giving birth—the shot was the first thing my mom got. But no, actually, I chose the name. It’s my middle name—my parent’s let me choose it for my sixteenth birthday. My real name…that, you will never know.”

I stared, suddenly entranced by the way her smile made her eyes crinkle. But I was more intrigued by her name. “I have to know now! You can’t just build me up for such a cut-off, that’s not fair.”

She laughed, “Life’s not fair—didn’t your parents ever tell you that?”

“Dead; remember?” That wasn’t a sullen statement, just fact. Strangely enough, I was comfortable talking about it with her.

“ah, yes.” She smiled, “well, then I guess you’ll have to hear it from me.”

“You’re not old enough to be my mom.”

She scoffed, the laugh falling loudly and dryly. “Isn’t that the truth?”

I smiled, sitting straighter and touching my head gingerly. It still stung, but the blood was dry.

She glanced at me. “So, Mr. Richard of the cubicle and most pathetic life ever, what is it you like to do. And it better be interesting, cuz so far your life is anything but.”

My smile stopped and I started to think about my life; what I did for fun. There was really nothing. I’d never even gone bowling or ever played a sport. My dad had had a useless arm and had never thrown me a ball because of it. My mom hadn’t had time to put me in any classes or teams. All I had were my books, but I didn’t even really like those. When I was at home, I would eat or shower or read a little or watch some T.V. But there was nothing I would really call a hobby. And you know, I had never really thought about it before.

I told her this and her jaw just dropped. “What?” she nearly screamed, “You’ve never been bowling? What do you do here? I mean, you have to live here your whole life and you don’t even have a way to spend it? Richard, it is official, you are pathetic—way worse than my dad.”

“Is that an insult?” I laughed. But she didn’t.

“Yeah. A major one! My dad is the lamest guy ever. That is, he was, until you came along.”

I stared down, trying to smile, but finding it hard to. It was like my life was nothing and I just realized it. I realized that I hadn’t even been living, I had just been breathing.

“Oh, don’t go all depressive on me! You know what, no, we are going bowling.”

And suddenly she pushed her way through two lanes and took the exit. I didn’t even know where we were. But I was scared. She just mumbled under her breath about how pathetic I was. Then she pulled into the first bowling alley we saw and demanded me to get out. She mad me pay, saying she bet I made more than her and I needed it; she didn’t. So I paid for a lane, put on those awful shoes and picked up a ball. It was heavy. She just rolled her eyes, saying that if I couldn’t pick up a bowling ball, I might as well call myself a senior and get the discount.

Then she bowled, getting an easy ‘spare’. I went up, almost nervous. So she came over, stood by me and told me to just swing. That everyone is born knowing how to throw a ball. So I threw it and knocked them all down. I cheered, knowing that was good. She just looked at me, her eyes strangely jealous yet humored at the same time.

“Are you sure you’ve never played before?”

I just laughed, meandering back and sitting lazily. And, for the first time in a long time, I really, truly smiled. And it felt good.

Playing that game I realized just how much girls could talk. She just went on and on—about anything and everything. Which was understandable, since she seemed to know everything. She had been to every continent—except Antarctica—at least once. Had a boyfriend in each. She told me everything about her love life, how even in high school she could only get the scum. I mentioned she was rather pretty so it was understandable. She asked, with a laugh, what that’s supposed to mean. I told her guys were only brave enough to go for someone if it was a shallow sort of thing; they didn’t have to put anything into it yet they could get everything they wanted out of it. And most shallow guys only cared for the gorgeous girl.

She stared at me for a moment. I asked her why and she just shook her head, knocking another pin down and then sitting by me. “It’s just…weird. You could be my dad, but you’re still…young.”

I scoffed, almost embarrassed by it all. “I could not be your dad—I’m not that old.”

“Okay, but you’re like, what, pushing forty?”

“And you’re, what, pushing twenty?”

She laughed; a short, humored laugh that made me smile. “You wish. Let’s just say I’m pushing thirty.”

“And you’re not married.” I said; it wasn’t a question. And I quickly bowled before she answered.

“No. I’ve never really felt the need. I’ve tasted too much of life to just throw it away and settle.”

She blushed as I laughed, “What?”

“Nothing; it’s just, the way I’ve heard it, family is life.”

She rolled her eyes, standing to bowl but still talking, “No. Not in my eyes—you don’t know my family. I watched my mom and dad divorce, get married, and divorce again. I don’t think I’m the family type. But, Mr. Richard, what’s your excuse? First wife leave you for another man?”

“No. Never been married. I guess I just…never really looked for it. I don’t really…date. Besides, the only girls who go for me are twice divorced with three kids or absolutely drunk.”

Her laugh broke across the room as I went up to bowl. I got a gutter ball. “Huh? So, ‘sweetie’, which one do I fall in to?” It was a joke, but I didn’t laugh. I just bowled and willed my heart to slow down. Suddenly she was standing by me, offering a high-five as I got a spare. “We live in a weird world, huh? Nothing really goes like it should.”

“And how is that?” I asked, staring into her eyes. They seemed to darken, but they still looked beautiful.

“I mean, we’re good people; we’re nice—nice looking—and everything. So why aren’t we settled or at least…pro’s at this love thing? People look at me and think it’s my fault life won’t work out for me. Like all those people who saw me push the cart at you; I get those looks every day someone finds out I didn’t go to church, or every week that a ring remains off the finger. You know, it makes me sick. Life’s not all fairy-tales, but people—even ones stuck in crap—think it is. And they get mad when I don’t reach it. Life is just life, you know. It’s not like I need these…judgements to realize I’m missing out on something. But is it my entire fault? Like, really?”

She was no longer bowling. She was just sitting, holding her soda and looking through me. I slowly sat next to her, a sort of relief flooding over me—I wasn’t the only one. It was a sort of connection; we both had different stories, but the same results.

“Yes, I know what that’s like. But still, you can’t be disappointed in your life. You’ve tasted things most people only dream of. You even said you don’t want to settle.”

She looked over at me, her eyes mischievous. This is when I found out how confusing girls can be. “Yeah but, I can’t say I really meant it. I mean…there’s always been that pull for something more. I just don’t wanna admit it. Cuz life can be a total bag of manure sometimes, you know?”

I slowly started to nod my head, then started to shake it. I really was confused. She laughed, her solemn look finally shed.

“I get that a lot.” She smiled at me, her knees pulled up under her chin. She truly was beautiful. And it was then I knew what it felt like to have your heart collide with your chest. I knew what it was like to have emotions crash with your thoughts.

I wanted nothing but to get the chance to hold Carline—a woman I had known for less than twenty four hours; a woman who was probably ten years my junior; a woman who looked at me as a father figure; a woman who’d just broken up with a boyfriend. And then I was mad. Mad at me, at her, at the day. I wasn’t supposed to be here. It was grocery day. I was supposed to be home, starting dinner and thinking about work. I probably would have turned on the T.V. and then picked up some random book. I would have gone to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, looking for grey hairs. Instead, I was out bowling with a beautiful girl who had previously given me a concussion. And, in the few hours I’d known her, my world had been flipped upside down. I didn’t want to go back to breathing—I found I liked living.

I stood up, took a bowling ball, and threw it into the lane, getting to hear the solid sound of the ball colliding with all ten pins. She was by me again, a sort of stunned yet humored expression across her face.

“Thanks, Richard. But just because you happen to be an absolute pro at this game, doesn’t mean I want you to bowl for me.”

I blushed, keeping my eyes away from her face, desperate to remain a man. I knew exactly what she’d do if I fell to my impulses—I would probably do the same if I were her. So I sat back down without a word. And she followed.

She ordered a pizza, saying she was absolutely starved. I told hr I was quite the cook. She laughed and said it was nothing she hadn’t heard before—that guys always used that line to get her to come over but it would always turn out to be take-out. I assured her I was totally serious and she just winked, saying she’d have to come over sometime and see. But then she told me the different types of food she had tasted. Said caviar was vile, but she’d eat roasted squid any day. I told her that was disgusting. She laughed. As the pizza came, she went on about her Italian adventures. How true Italian pizza was nothing like the American version. I told her about pizza my mom used to make; with macaroni and cheese, canned tomatoes and peppers. She thought that sounded worse than anything. But it’s actually pretty good. She said I’d have to make it for her sometime.

The mood went somber. Both of us seemed nervous to speak. She finally rolled her eyes. “Yes, I said it. Geez. It’s not like we have to get married! I just want to try a mac and cheese pizza—is that such a crime?”

I laughed, nearly choking on my food as her face reddened. She smiled too, saying I was such a kid—that she’d baby-sat more mature boys than me. I just smiled, quickly asking where she lived now—if she had reached the two year limit.

She smiled, staring at me for a second too long to be comfortable. “Yeah, actually. I lived by my boyfriend for almost a year. Too long. I actually have a ticket to Austin, Texas—tomorrow morning.”

“Texas?” I said, trying desperately to hold myself together. She looked down.

“Uh-huh. I got a job.”

“What do you even do?” My voice cracked and she laughed—another one of those mesmerizing laughs.

“Anything and everything. This is a graphic designer position.”

“How do you even live like this? All this moving and going and stuff?” It could have been nosey, but she didn’t care.

“When you really want something, you go for it.” Her glance lingered—I’m sure she noticed mine too. “And, since I can’t seem to decide what I want, I go for a lot.”

I just nodded. That’s when a worker came over and told us they were closing—it was eleven o’clock. We were both surprised. Carline quickly asked how much that would cost. The guy just shrugged, saying it had been a slow day and we’d gotten through with just one payment—no biggie. So we quickly left, thanking them and leaving a quick tip. Not to mention half a pizza. But I don’t think they really wanted that.

We got in her car and started off; it was silent. But not awkward. We just both seemed to be thinking. All I could think of was the day—her laugh and how random everything had. How absolutely abnormal it was to me, but how it felt just like it should. I thought about how, when she smiled, a wrinkle would appear just by her left eye. Her bangs, just growing out, always managed to slip from behind her ear and slide onto her face. There was the way her foot swiveled when she stood still for too long. Or how she cheered when she hit a strike. And her eyes—just how green they were. And I thought about what she had said; how her philosophy on life was so different than mine. How…opposite she was from me, but how much I longed to be her. “When you really want something, you go for it.”

I looked at her, my mouth suddenly dry. She was humming along to the music, her head bobbing as her hands set the beat on the wheel. She seemed oblivious to me. But then she smiled.

“What you looking at so intently; you have some radio station you’re dying to hear—maybe the classical channel? Or some talk shows?”

It wasn’t rude and I smiled, quickly saying no and looking out the window. The traffic was gone and the night was dark.

“So, where’s it gonna be? Your house or your car?”

“Excuse me?” I said, shocked and almost scared. No matter how much my heart pounded when I was by her, that still seemed a little too…quick. Not to mention wrong—in a lot of ways.

She looked at me and then burst into laughter—a loud, totally happy laugh. “I mean, where do you want to be dropped off! Man, Rich, somebody’s mind is in the gutter!”

I smiled, blushing horribly and mumbling about how I was just thinking and that it had come out wrong. I told her my car would probably be best, and closest. She mentioned something about how that also meant she couldn’t stalk me. But I was only half listening. She had called me rich. Nobody had ever called me Rich before—nobody had ever called me anything but Richard. But I liked it.

Too soon, we were at the grocery store. It was easy enough to find my car; it was one of the last there. She laughed when she saw it; calling me a total geek. But it wasn’t rude. It was just Carline, and I was starting to like that. She parked, and I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to say so much and the other just wanted to hide. Finally she smiled, and said it had been fun—way more fun than hanging out with her dad. I laughed, thanking her. The doors were still locked, but I didn’t want to tell her.

“Can-can I have your number?” I asked, quickly adding the fact that I needed to arrange a time to make mac and cheese pizza. She smiled, not even blushing or fidgeting. She just gave it to me and then unlocked the doors, almost as if she had been waiting. Then I got out and started to my car. But she called me back.

“Rich,” she said, leaning her head towards my opened door, “sorry ‘bout that…collision…with the grocery cart.”

“Don’t be,” I smiled, “I’m not.”

She smiled too, sort of biting her lip and then sitting back. But she popped back out again.

“Oh, and rich, you really don’t look forty. You’re cuter than my ex boyfriend…not that that’s saying much.” She laughed at her joke, giving me a double honk and yelling something about ‘sweetie’ as she drove off. I just laughed, getting in my car and willing myself to remember how to breathe. I didn’t dare turn on the car; I felt drunk. I just watched her pull out and get back on the freeway. It hurt; watching her go. All I could think of was what she had said—how you should go for the things you want. But everything I’d ever known told me it was ridiculous; that it could never and would never work out. So I just drove back to my apartment and went to bed. And, for the first time in my life, I didn’t brush my teeth. And it felt strangely good.

But I woke up with a headache; a huge, pulsing headache. And at first I thought it had all been a dream. But the taste of pizza still hung on my breath and my phone was lying on the counter, her number still in it. I reached for it, wanting to call. That’s when I remembered she was leaving—to Texas. I went in the bathroom and, after getting ready, just stared at myself, but not because of the threat of grey hairs. Rather because I felt like, if she went, living would leave to. It was as if my entire life was built up into that yesterday. As if all I had to live for was about to get on a plane and leave—live a life she wanted. And it was then when I realized just how desperation could change a man.

I pulled my phone and called her, needing to tell her—everything. But I got her voicemail. “Hey, this is Carline. I’m probably too busy living to answer; sorry. But I guess you can leave a message—“ a laugh, “and maybe I’ll get back to you…if you’re in range.”

So I did something more desperate. I grabbed my keys, jumped in my car and sped off to the airport. I didn’t even know when she was leaving. But I knew I had to find out. I laid on my horn, willing the traffic to disappear. For the first time, I was flipped off. But I didn’t care. I kept calling, willing her to answer, though I had no idea what she’d say. Probably file a restraining order.

It took me an hour to get to the airport and then I had no idea what to do.

I went up to the desk, asking if they could tell me what flight Carline was getting on. They said they could not, especially if I didn’t have a last name. I wanted to swear, but instead I just begged. I told them my life relied on this girl; that I had to find her. They didn’t buy it. Told me to move on—from the ticket booth and the girl. So I walked away, my eyes pathetically filling with tears. More because my head was killing me than anything, but still. I was crying. I just fell on a seat, letting my head fall between my knees. The incessant clatter of heels on tiles taunted me. Children seemed to scream just as they passed me. Adults would yell at spouses or children top hurry up or slow down—right by ear. The whole world seemed to be out to get me; my head was a circus and I couldn’t focus. But suddenly, I felt a hand on my head.

“Here sweetie, let me help you.”

I choked; the voice was too sweet—too perfect. It was as if all my hopes and dreams were in that voice and I didn’t dare look. But I did. My tears were still dripping down my cheek and my head was still pounding. But a sort of peace came over it when I heard her laugh. And then I saw those eyes. She was kneeling on the ground before me, her pencil skirt just touching the floor. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and she smiled sadly at me.

“What’s a matter—someone would think little rich had his money taken by the playground bully.” Her laugh collided with her own joke and I smiled, letting her hands grasp my head.

“You did this to me.”

“Well, that’s real romantic.” She said, still on the ground.

“No, I mean my headache. It’s been pounding since you tried to kill me with a grocery cart.”

She sighed, a sort of laugh lacing it. “Now that is even less romantic.”

I laughed, but suddenly I went serious. “Carline—“

“It’s Jemima.” She whispered, a coy smile playing at her lip. And I laughed. Right then, I knew I could do what I had to. So I did.

Jemima Carline, I have to tell you something. Because right now, I just can’t breathe.”

She just nodded, her eyes wide and innocent.

“You have totally changed me. I was a senior till you ran me over and kidnapped me and…all that. I woke up and—I just can’t live without you. I know this sounds ridiculous. I hardly know you. I could be a crazy rapist drug banger…and visa versa. But I want to try. I wanna try. To Live, to settle. And I want to try it with you. I—I’ve never done this before, but if what I’m feeling isn’t love, I don’t need love. Cuz this is good enough. You, carline, have stolen my heart—within hours of knowing it. You taught me to go for what I want and I want you.”

She didn’t laugh, she didn’t cry, but she smiled. And it was beautiful. She stood slowly, her hands slipping into mine. “Well, rich, looks like we have something in common.”

And then she sat on my lap, looked into my eyes and laughed. And then we kissed. And that was the greatest collision I have ever felt. It was the greatest collision I had ever tasted. The world seemed to spin and it was just her and me. For a moment we parted and she whispered in my ear, “I hope you know that go for it stuff was crap—I made it up, just to get this.” Then she kissed me again. I could almost feel her laugh. We were soon absorbed and passion collided with humor, chance collided with reason, we collided with each other. And even as the call for final borders to Austin rang out, we still remained. My head still pound, but not as hard as my heart.

My crash course in collision taught me two things: there are two sorts of collision. One, considered bad. Two, absolutely delicious. But, isn’t it interesting; one can lead to another and both share a same sort of consequence. They both leave you breathless—simply and completely breathless. And that is why I pray for them; every day. Because, if you let them, they always remind you to live. Always.

This is probably not unique in any way, but it is a feeling that has followed me since then. I want my home to be an open place, a place for friends to come if they need somewhere to be, talk, rest or whatever, anytime, anyday. They can eat my food, use my bed, play with my computer, sit on the balcony and just.. be bored. If they want to. I don't want people only to come here for parties or special occasions, but for every day life too.

Home was a place where everyone could come and just relax. I loved that, and I want to have it that way. That's my dream :)

Once upon a time I wrote a poem about leaving home, about starting something new, and now that bit of writing is about to come full circle. I'm on my way back to where I belong. I'm going to rebuild and resume what I'd laid aside. I'm going to board that plane, close my eyes, and do a little reflection. I'm going to breathe deeply, and say a little prayer. Here I go...

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.548032&w=425&h=350&fv=%26rel%3D0%26border%3D0%26]

*Gulp*

In the mean time, enjoy a few photo highlights from our month in New York so far...

It's Spring! Speaking of getting sprung... I hate seeing flowers locked up like this. So unnatural.

View outside of Seaside Johnny's in Pelham Bay, where we tried to eat but had to move inside ten minutes into it because it was like 40 degrees and windy. Kind of like it is right now. Anyway, it's the first time I've seen the ocean since a trip to Acadia in 2003, so it was cool. Like the beach, 'cept different.

Cherry blossoms on West 4th Street after downing a few margaritas outside in the Village. It was 70 degrees that day. Unlike today. But anyway.

Speaking of cherry blossoms and happy times, I got to meet a few fellow YA authors from the 2009 Debs group at Candle 79 this weekend. Writing is such a lonely, crazy pursuit---it's nice to take a break and hook up with people who are equally lonely and crazy. I mean, in the writing sense. Not that they're crazy. Just---oh, never mind. It was a great time! Thanks, Neesha, for the pic.

*Waves to Debs!*

Fun with my brother, Pook, at the Museum of the City of New York (don't blink, or you'll miss it) and a stroll through Central Park, followed by too many drinks and therapy at Wicker Park. Fortunately there's no photographic evidence of that. Really, this isn't a theme with me, it's just been a month of celebrating our triumphant return!

*Hiccup*

A little pigeon PDA right outside my window. Some people don't like these birds, but I do. They make cool sounds. I'm trying to develop a way to communicate with them, but unlike my multi-talented husband, I can't get the warble quite right and I usually scare them away.

Speaking of love... Mother's Day post-brunch at the Chocolate Room in Park Slope. I'm going to stalk the building every day until the tenants in the apartment above give up, and let me move in, so I will never be more than 10 steps away from this decadent dessert den.

Finally, me and Mom at the old Irish pub Alex and I used to frequent when we lived in Woodside. This picture was taken the day after we moved back, but since I didn't get to see Mom for Ma's Day, she can look at this and pretend that we had brunch together on Sunday. But really I was at the Chocolate Room, as you know. Which was way better. But anyway.

Happy Spring, Happy Mother's Day, Happy *insert favorite thing here* Day!

Com 2,03m de altura, o jogador de 21 anos era considerado um dos jogadores mais versáteis da liga. Embora sua posição original seja de ala (small forward), ele é capaz de jogar também na posição de armador. Muitas de suas habilidades estão sendo comparadas a jogadores do passado tal como Magic Johnson e seu ídolo de infância, Michael Jordan.

LeBron James faz justiça ao ser comparado à Michael Jordan, impondo superioridade ao eterno astro da NBA em praticamente todos os quesitos: pontos, assistências, rebotes, roubos e tocos, fazendo uma comparação de tempo de experiência na NBA.

Assim como Kobe Bryant, James foi drafitado direto da High-School (2003), mas com uma pequena diferença: foi a escolha nº1 do Draft, feita pelo Cleveland Cavaliers, o que lhe rendeu ainda mais atenção de toda a mídia e do público em geral, enquanto Kobe foi 13° escolha em 1996, que na mesma oportunidade Allen Iverson foi a 1°escolha.

Site: http://www.lebronjames.se

Axel went to the head doctor, a long overdue visit, at Spaulding Rehabilitation hospital (the official rehab site of the Red Sox it proudly advertises). As it turned out Axel did have some damage on his frontal lobe. The doctor explained that for normal people the neural paths in the frontal lobe are like a 12-lane highway. Axel has about half that number closed off for traffic right now. This explains much. In a perverted kind of way Axel sounded relieved on the phone, after his visit. The problems he has had organizing himself and his forgetfulness aren't because of old age or something that he could do anything about. The doctor explained that the frontal lobe is like the brain’s control tower. Axel could fly just fine but the control tower was only operating at half its capacity; thus the flow of traffic was not all that well organized with just a few too many glitches.

The problems were indeed caused by the crash which had resulted in a ‘contrecoup;’ the impact had pushed his brain hard against the front of the skull. That was the bad news. The good news is that the damage can be undone through a variety of therapies that will help to recreate the damaged neural pathways. This includes speech therapy and occupational therapy to help with his slightly damaged organizational capacities. We both hope that he will come out of this better than the pre-crash original, with bright newly asphalted neural highways!

Tessa is on her way back from Canada, driving in convoy with her best friend Val who went there to pry her out of her depression (and appeared successful). Tessa needed a little R&R from her friendless existence in London in the parental home. We are looking forward to having her here. We believe that the many gardening chores that come with spring time are just what the doctor prescribed.

And just when Tessa arrives Sita is leaving the homestead again for a trip to Egypt for a piece of work that resulted from her, apparently, excellent performance in Davos, earlier this year. We warned her that it will be hot (we heard from Joan and Morsi that it was 140 degrees Fahrenheit in Aswan where they were a couple of weeks ago).

...being lost
is worth the coming home
-Stones, Neil Diamond 1971

Gee I left the US sort of happy and looking forward to the trip, there was alot of "juice" in going rather than staying. However as someone pointed out, you can't expect to understand the Portenos during the first year. That maybe true, plus the slow job seach, plus some plain laziness creeping in...it all adds up to I miss certain things about the USA.

I miss the convenience of stores. In California you can run to the market and pick up a box of fried chicken for fairly cheap prices, pick up some deserts, and whammo you experience an instant gratification feeling. Here the service is medium-lousy, the waits always long and pointless, and there is no fried chicken ready to eat anywhere!

I also miss bacon, eggs, strong coffee and pancakes a food staple found in all 50 states with sugar and butter for the asking. So now I have taken up making pancakes from scratch because my hosts always have oil (aceite) and a mixing bowl and flour of some kind. There are pans and spatulas and butter. I carry the baking soda in my backpack for tooth brushing. All I need to buy is a couple eggs at a kiosko, then I can start enjoying that full stomached, American feeling of having eaten hot, buttery flapjacks.

Popcorn is another delicacy that is available at the local mercados, though not all. When I made a pot of popcorn usually the other South Americans present would ask "what's all the noise about?" but rarely asked for a handfull of the stuff.

About the second month of feeling the tearing feeling of not being anywhere in particular, I began craving Steely Dan songs so using You Tube at the locutorio one day, their song from the LP Katy Lied totally nailed my feeling for me:

If I had my way
I would move to another lifetime
I'd quit my job
Ride the train through the misty nighttime
I'll be ready when my feet touch ground
Wherever I come down
And if the folks will have me
Then they'll have me

CHORUS:
Any world that I'm welcome to
Is better than the one I come from

I can hear your words
When you speak of what you are and have seen
I can see your hand
Reaching out through a shining daydream
Where the days and nights are not the same
Captured happy in a picture frame
Honey I will be there
Yes I'll be there

CHORUS

I got this thing inside me
That's got to find a place to hide me
I only know I must obey
This feeling I can't explain away

I think I'll go to the park
Watch the children playing
Perhaps I'll find in my head
What my heart is saying
A vision of a child returning
A kingdom where the sky is burning
Honey I will be there
Yes I'll be there

CHORUS

Any World That I'm Welcome To (1975)

How did those two guys from New York who were amazing songwriters know that people go through periods like that? It felt like they had planted an easter egg to be opened 35 years later when the need arose.

Donations through Paypal are gratefully encouraged and appreciated by the author, contributing greatly to continuing the experience in a foreign country 10,000 miles from home

Paypal access e-mail is billgbg@hotmail.com

                                                                              -Wolz14

Until then, keep on having lotsa Penguin Fun
Posh (Monkeypod44)

that was yesterday, today is fine. i got a botball '08 shirt and it looks cool.

Page Six reports that Gay Al hit club Home last week in Los Angeles and spent most of his night with a lovely BBW. For those of you who do not know what BBW means. . it simply means Big, Beautiful, Woman. A cocktail waitress said, "He was at the bar with her. She was a pretty big girl. They were dancing to hip-hop and bobbing their heads. He had on a white button-down [shirt], open with a diamond necklace hanging out. And he was drinking all night with his pinky in the air."

What in the hell? Maybe that's why he broke up with Star. . the chick got too thin for Al. Seems like he likes big girls and guys.

I am married to a sweetie of a man, mom to 2 great kids, slave to a couple of big dogs, a grad student (class of 09), and wahm. I've worked pretty much in retail & hospitality offline, except for a move into educational support. My time as a tutor helped push me in the right direction, while my last hospitality job nearly put me under.

I spent an entire summer working the 3pm-11pm or midnight shift, and my days generally started at 6:30 am when I'd get up to get my daughter and myself ready for school. Yes, I had classes from 8-noon, had a 3 hour break for studying and stress relief, then went to work. My daughter was 4 at the time and I rarely saw her. It was killing me. One evening I had a disagreement with my boss and decided that was that. I signed on for a work-study as a reading tutor and have been a tutor ever since.

My first official wah job was as a tutor, then I started as a virtual assistant. It brought in ok money, but the freedom in my schedule to spend time with DD and my then boyfriend and his son (hubby & my SS) was awesome. Finding a company to tutor with helped bring in more money, as did opening an onilne store.

But this post isn't supposed to be about me, really. It's about   MommyFest's blog party. Join us! Meet other moms - working moms, stay at home moms, younger, older, and everything in between. We all have different stories to share. We won't bite!

And, if meeting other people wasn't enough incentive, there are prizes! So, come on over!

We were in Rhode Island for the weekend, doing family stuff. The island my in-laws live on has a very active Open Spaces Commission that purchases "vacant" land to fight sprawl and maintain traditional aesthetics, pastures and historic precedents. One of these pieces of land is directly next to my in-laws. Often times, the Commission lets gentleman farmers till the land, but this year they have decided to let a someone graze his Hereford and Angus cows. Being a city slicker, I think this is exciting news.....

I ran over Saturday evening before the sun set and snapped a few photos of the cows (and bulls). While there, I spotted a very teeny, tiny black dot in the pasture. Through my camera lens I was able to see it was a baby. I didn't approach the pasture too closely (yes, because of fear) as the "fence" was a piece of string. But I stood there for 20 minutes waiting for the little black speck to move (I thought this type of animal stood right away?). It didn't. My MIL finally pushed me along to "let nature take its course".

Suffice to say I had nightmares all night about the calf and I felt horrible for the mother cow. I did a head count before I left and knew that if there were 3 tiny calves in the morning, that the newborn had not fared well through the night. But, if there's 4, maybe we had stumbled onto a brand new baby that just wasn't standing yet? At 6:30 the next morning I couldn't take it. MP and Lottie and I got up and went to check on the cows and babies. And what do you know? 4 calves- 1 of which was TINY.

Check out that Mama cow. Happy Mother's Day cow! (Look at that expression, she was NOT into me being there at all). MP and I got much closer to the string fence this time, and while I was taking pictures, I hear MP say "hey, look at all those cows coming over from the other pasture"......next thing I know, STAMPEDE. Poop flying, pee, moo-ing, pounding of hooves on the ground, all barreling at me. And the only thing to save me is a piece of string.

No joke. I just got the heck out of there. I look up and I see MP & Lottie halfway back to the road. He left me there to stare down the beasts! My hero.

Muito tem se falado nos últimos anos sobre pequenas atitudes que você pode ter para reduzir a destruição do planeta. Por isso, reunimos uma lista de ações simples que você pode adotar no seu dia-a-dia:

1. Separe o lixo da sua casa, coloque os plásticos, pets, alumínio e vidro em recipientes distintos e leve a um local de reciclagem, caso não haja coleta seletiva na sua rua.2. Esqueça o stand-by: desligue ou tire da tomada os equipamentos eletrônicos quando não estiver usando para economizar com os gastos de energia elétrica.

3. Troque suas lâmpadas incandescentes por fluorescentes, que reduzem o consumo de energia, ajudando o planeta e o seu bolso.

4. Quando for ao supermercado, evite utilizar sacolas plásticas derivadas de petróleo, que são difíceis de reciclar e levam centenas de anos para se decompor. Leve uma sacola de tecido ou um carrinho ou opte por carregar as compras em caixas de papelão.

5. Não lave a calçada com mangueira. Se for preciso, use água da chuva ou de reuso.

6. Não deixe torneiras e chuveiros abertos desnecessariamente. Tome banhos rápidos e quando estiver escovando os dentes ou fazendo a barba, por exemplo, feche a torneira.

7. Não deixe o celular carregando mais do que o tempo necessário.

8. Não jogue o óleo usado na cozinha diretamente no ralo da pia, isso entupe a rede de esgoto e contamina os rios. Coe-o e guarde-o em uma garrafa pet ou vidro e, quando encher, entregue para uma entidade ou pessoas que fazem sabão com o óleo usado.

9. Evite descartar pilhas e baterias no lixo doméstico.

10. Componentes eletrônicos como computadores e celulares também não devem ser jogados no lixo, pois têm uma imensa dificuldade de se degradar na natureza, além de muitos deles conterem substâncias tóxicas. Já existem empresas que recolhem esses aparelhos em casa.

11. Evite usar a impressora, a não ser que seja realmente necessário ter a informação impressa. Nesse caso, prefira sempre usar papel reciclado.

12. Verifique se não há nenhum vazamento na casa, inclusive na descarga do banheiro.

13. Para evitar o desperdício, instale uma válvula para regular a quantidade de água liberada no seu vaso sanitário ao acionar a descarga.

14. Doe as coisas que você não queira ou não use mais, como livros, por exemplo.

15. Procure utilizar lâmpadas com sensores na entrada da casa, assim você evita que esqueçam as luzes acesas à noite.

Fonte: IG casa

• Make money.  One of the best ways to go green with your clutter is to sell it and make money.  Old clothes can be sold online in many free classified sections or you can donate them to consignment shops.  Collectibles sell very well on e-Bay.  And kid’s things and knick knacks do well at yard sales. 
• Donate your items.  Choose a spot in your home such as a corner or a closet to collect all your discarded items throughout the month.  At the end of the month, load up your collection and take it to the local donation center.
• Have a swap party with friends.  Get all your friends together and each one of you bring items you no longer need like jewelry, home décor, clothes, purses, magazines, small furniture, etc.  Put the items in a pile in the middle of the room and let everyone just dive in.  It’s a fun way to get rid of your old things while getting new things.  Anything left over can be bagged up and donated to the local women’s shelter.  Don’t forget to use this fun idea with other moms with children that have toys.
• Reusing your own stuff is another way to go green while de-cluttering your home.  Use some of your old items for new organizational ways.  For example:  empty gift baskets are great for mail, magazines, planters, small toys and more.  Try to think outside the box when you’re going through your house and ask yourself if it can be used for any other purpose.

You’ll be amazed at how easy it is to go green while de-cluttering your home.

The other very cool thing about Eric is that he has the very good taste to be completely gooey-eyed over my roommate Liv. This is not uncommon among my male relatives. However, Eric has been gooey-eyed for longer, more consistently, and with more restraint than any of the others. He first met her a year ago last December. I was bringing Liv back from getting a spinal tap, a particularly unpleasant procedure with long-lasting, thoroughly obnoxious side-effects. I had a lunch date with Eric, things at the doctor's had taken longer than we expected, so I was picking him up before I took Liv home. At the time Liv was huddled in the back seat of the car, hiding underneath blankets, working on a really nasty spinal headache (which would eventually send her to the ER), and trying hard not to puke. Eric told me later that she was so beautiful his mind completely stopped working for a few minutes. You can't tell me that's not love.

The flaw in all this loveliness is Liv. She's been through a rough couple of years. There was the skiing injury that, improperly treated, changed her from a marathon-running, swing-dancing, four-hours-of-sleep-a-night ball of energy into the girl in the wheelchair who has to be home in bed by ten o'clock or else she'll fall asleep where she sits. There was the boyfriend who took her skiing in the first place, and then dumped her while she was in the hospital. There was the total career change when her injury forced her to switch from being a well-paid Air Force Officer to not-paid-at-all grad student, plus the stress when the people in the biology department where she enrolled to pursue her doctorate were, shall we say, less than sympathetic to her disability and tried to kick her out. And then there was the house she bought, planning to renovate it herself, right before her legs stopped working completely. Even if she'd been at all interested in starting a new relationship in the midst of all this, she wouldn't have had the time or emotional energy to spare. Plus, things with the previous boyfriend had hurt her enough that she's been wary around all guys ever since. All that being said, the case for Eric's future happiness with Liv looks pretty bleak.

On the other hand, up until a few weeks ago, things looked cautiously promising. Liv likes Eric a lot. I don't think she's made the jump to Liking him, but in my opinion, she's teetering on the brink. She enjoys him very much, is playful with him in a way I don't see her be playful with anyone else, has extended conversations with him whenever they meet, and keeps suggesting opportunities to spend more time with him. Liv is not the kind of person you can push into much of anything, so I was playing it cool, agreeing with any positive remark she might say about Eric, and playing along with her suggestions to have him spend more time with us. When he was around I would quietly sit back and pretend that nothing unusual was happening at all, no matter how much she seemed to be flirting with him. Little by little, I thought, as long as Liv doesn't get freaked out by something and stop in her tracks, we'll get somewhere with this.

And then Damon came in to town. Damon, who wouldn't know subtlety if it bit him on the butt, Damon who has no patience or ability to simply sit back and let things develop, Damon who loves his friends and wants to have all of them securely in safe little niches while he's not around. The niche he's created for me is Joe. He wanted one for Liv too, or maybe Eric. Whichever person he thought he was helping, the end result is the same. Somehow he got wind of Eric's incorrigible gooey-eyes, and decided to do something about it. Which he did. He came over to the house ostensibly to visit me, and in the course of conversation informed Liv that Eric is completely nuts about her and has been for some time. He also strongly suggested that, since Eric is a fabulous human being who has gotten the impression that there is no hope for him, Liv should Do Something about this. He suggested certain courses of action which would satisfy him, most of which seemed to involve Liv grabbing Eric and demonstrating physical affection of one kind or another.

Yeah.

Liv seemed to take this fairly well. At least she didn't inform Damon where he could put his suggestions, which seemed like fairly heroic restraint to me. However, in the next few days I realized that she had stopped mentioning Eric at all. We had some tentative plans to celebrate her graduation with a select group of friends, which included Eric (Liv's suggestions). She stopped talking about these plans entirely, and ducked the topic whenever I brought it up. Finally I asked her straight out whether her ducking had anything to do with feeling uncomfortable around Eric. She said that it might have something to do with that. Things were looking a little bleak. I though black thoughts about Damon, and left Liv delicately alone.

Then Eric came to the Theology on Tap end of the season party. Liv and I were hosting it this time around. I had invited him, since I like spending time with my cousin, and somehow forgotten to tell Liv. Eric had a wedding on Saturday, so it didn't look he could come after all. Then he came.

Let's just say that it was an interesting evening. I got to put all my non-interfering skills to good use! After the initial shyness, Liv warmed up to Eric more and more. There were conversations and teasing, and cuteness of all kinds. I have to admire Eric's restraint as well, letting Liv set her own comfort level. She kept seeking him out, they would talk a little while, and then she would head off somewhere else. Then she'd come back, they'd talk a little more, and the pattern would repeat. As the evening wore on, the talks got longer and longer. I smiled and refrained from commenting. And then, Liv's standard modus operandi with parties is to stay up as long as she can, and then quietly abscond to bed around 10:30 or 11:00, leaving me to take care of things until people leave. Not with this party. She stayed up until 2am. I kept looking at her, thinking that she would be heading for the steps at any moment. But she didn't. As long as Eric was there, she was downstairs.

And she did all this while knowing that Eric is in love with her.

Towards the end of the party, I was on the front porch talking with friends. Eric was out there with us until he realized that Liv was by herself inside. He quietly got up with a grin on his face and disappeared inside. I watched him go inside, and set myself to wait. It was a bit cold Saturday night, and I didn't have a sweater. When I started shivering, my friends suggested that we go in. I said no, explained a little about the situation, and said that I intended to stay out there as long as I could. From my seat on the porch I could see the bottom of the steps through the open door. As we talked I watched it, waiting to see if Liv would head up. An hour passed, then an hour and a half. We stayed out on the porch. Then the wind kicked up. I crept silently into the house to retrieve sweaters and a blanket for myself and my friends from my room. Liv and Eric, laughing in the kitchen, didn't hear. At the two hour mark we decided that we'd been forbearing enough, and went inside anyway. At that point Liv finally headed upstairs, and my friends headed out. Eric stayed for a little while to do a post-mortem, but I was having a hard time getting warm again after my chill. Before too long I shoved him out the door so I could take sanctuary in a hot shower.

Two hour out in the cold with shivers, and hypothermia. And I know this is just the beginning. They better name a child after me.

One of the most important things to consider on deciding for your living room furniture is the sofa. As most people know, a modern leather sofa can bring that look of elegance into your living room. With a wide range of modern leather furniture to select from in your local high street stores, any style can match a look. With leather being a very contemporary look, it can modernize and transform the look of your living room in a heartbeat. Be aware of the styles they have out there because they have so many good designs it’ll be hard to decide for you. When considering the outlook of your living room or any other room in particular, going for bright colors in your living room can help bring that that extra bit of life back into your house.

Choosing is important because it will dictate the phase and the motif for your room. When you have decided on a perfect color for your living room, you will also be inspired to purchase new ornaments and furniture to help bring your living room up to date. Getting inspiration from the vast amount of home designs programs we have, you often see how designers transform a house on the brink of demolition to a fresh, new and modern pad without the need of heavy workloads or builders. So remember you do not need to spend a fortune on updating your home, choosing the right paint can add life and most importantly value to your property.

Another step to consider is to de-clutter. This is the most important step that most people need to bear in mind when they are looking to update their property. Some people do not know how to let the past go. To start off the mission of de-cluttering your home, take time out by exploring every room in your house going through cupboards and drawers making a list of any old junk that you come across. It is really important to consider the changes. The extra junk that you have in your room is really important to be taken away or at least put in a place where it will not be present on the guest’s eyes.

Always remember that when re-modeling your home’s design the important is arranging the furniture. It can vary to a wide option of designs, depending on your modern furniture or on your room’s appearance. Remember that most of the effort that you will put on your room will rely on the modern furniture you have be it a modern sofa, table, chairs, etc,. The design will always be an important factor as well.

Jron Magcale

http://modani.com/store