
“Aren’t the clouds beautiful? They look like big balls of cotton… I could just lie here all day, and watch them drift by… If you use your imagination, you can see lots of things in the cloud formations… What do you think you see, Linus?”

“Aren’t the clouds beautiful? They look like big balls of cotton… I could just lie here all day, and watch them drift by… If you use your imagination, you can see lots of things in the cloud formations… What do you think you see, Linus?”

Starting a women meetup group for active ladies over 50, was my attempt to reach out in the city where I live and now -not even five months later- we are 112 members. What a fun group of women we are!

Many kids in Europe have to study Latin and Greek in school, and I was tortured with it as well. I learned about the gods and read everything about Greek mythology, and before I knew it, I was in love.

I liked to draw pictures when I was a child. I wasn’t any good at it, but that didn’t stop me from doing so. My drawings were always full of life and colors; they told beautiful stories of dogs, cats, cows and roosters. I drew pictures of our farm with green fields, beautiful trees and gigantic flowers. No matter what I drew, there was always a smiling sun in the corner.
Oh Boy is it time already? Is my time up? Does that mean last year was the last year on this wonderful, crazy planet or does it mean this year is the last year of my life? Now I am all confused. Maybe I read the question wrong. Nope, it says “from the last year of your life” very confusing.
A very good friend came to visit us and I took some time off from blogging. I just didn’t want to waste my time in front of the computer, when we had a full schedule and such a great time. Blogging has become a part in my life, but I don’t want it to dictate my life, because that would take the fun out of it.
Even after so many years, I still remember one assignment in school. Our teacher gave us each a different postcard of a famous painting and we, the chosen ones, were suppose to write an essay about it. I was not a happy camper. “Why did I get such a boring piece?” The painting was “Der arme poet/The poor poet” by Carl Spitzweg and I just starred at it.