December

Excerpt from A Sand County Almanac; December

Pines Above the Snow

Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither god nor poet; one need only own a shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree- and there will be one.

If his back be strong and his shovel sharp, there may eventually be ten thousand. And in the seventh year he may lean upon his shovel, and look upon his trees, and find them good.
God passed on his handiwork as early as the seventh day, but I notice He has since been rather noncommittal about its merits. I gather either that He spoke too soon, or that trees stand more looking upon than do fig leaves and firmaments.

Looooook into my eyes

The problem when your husband is away.......too much free time to annoy the cat.

Here sits Queen Zoey. Yes you may adore me. You there........crazy lady behind that dreaded camera, bring me my milk.............NOW!!!!

True Love

Here is the story. Two people meet, spend time together, get to know one another, and fall in love. No one can really explain why they have fallen in love, by all outward appearances they don't appear to fit the standard love story, but their love for each other bypasses all reason and logic. It is a connection that is transcendent. Over time, their love and passion grow for one another even though they are only able see each other in passing. They are unable and unwilling to be together because of external forces. Forces that won't allow them to be united, forces that are undeniable in order to function properly in their world(s). They go their separate ways, marry others, have children, and go about living "normal" lives. All the while secretly desiring their true love and aching for that other person. The passion and love for each other carries them through until the next meeting where they know they can be with each other again.

This is a great love story that has been played out many times in novels, movies, poetry, and art. That yearning that comes deep from within. Some of us have had our own stories similar to this one. One thing is certain, love is love, and although it can be deniable in order to survive in the worlds we build for ourselves, it never leaves us. It can be a song on the radio, the way an author unites two characters, or a smell of a particular perfume that always brings back that one person, that moment when you knew that no matter what direction your lives would take, you would always be connected.

Where is this all coming from, one may ask? Well....hold on to your coat tails folks, but I watched Brokeback Mountain last night for the first time. Now before you go running off to put your head in the sand, understand that I myself wasn't quite sure what to make of this film before choosing to rent it. However, if you can leave your body, leave your sex, leave all you have learned about "proper" love behind, you will see what I saw, a real, true blue love story. I do believe that their are some loves that do transcend bodies, minds, and go to a deeper place. A kind of love that can surpass one's sex, race, religion, size, or any of the limitations we set for ourselves, and finds unity in a spiritual plane.

If you have experienced this type of love even once in your lifetime, then you are lucky indeed.

Java and Me

It all started innocently enough. Back in the mid-90s while living in San Diego, a college girlfriend and I would often find ourselves hanging out at the many beach side coffee/art houses that are spattered along the San Diego coast. She, having been a local San Diegan and a regular coffee drinker, convinced me to have a Mocha coffee one afternoon. Although I was skeptical (visions of my parents morning chunk-o-coffee bubbling on the kitchen counter was enough to keep anyone away), I decided to embark on this new experience. It was good, really good. Despite the fact that a Mocha is primarily sugar, it opened a door to try new coffee related beverages. I believe they call this a gateway drug. Yes....my mocha that day changed my life forever.

I soon started brewing the bean at home. Shortly afterwards, I hooked up my husband and got him a monkey for his back too. Initially we started cooking up the flavored coffees such as raspberry, hazelnut, and vanilla, but soon we realized the high just wasn't enough anymore. We needed the hard stuff, the real coffee. We needed the coffee with Country names in the title like Arabia, Sumatra, and Costa Rican. We were hard core now.

Fast forward a few years and I was a full on addict. Functions became impaired without the Joe, words became the ramblings of an idiot, mood swings would shift violently, and the headache, my oh my the headache. I would try and give it up, but the coffee pot would sing to me sweet morning lullabies, the grounds would throw their scent around, and within 2 weeks I had fallen off the wagon.

Now that I am supposedly older and wiser, the coffee consumption has cost me more than late nights and acid reflux, I have been diagnosed with adrenal fatigue and high levels of cortisol in my blood (stress hormones). In addition, I have an acid gut with intestinal issues. Now...I have to quit the habit, for my health. I am on day 3 of cutbacks (to help with the withdrawals), and this morning I woke to thumping on my temples, complete lethargy, and as my husband would say, a rather "bitchy" disposition.

I am hopeful that the next few days improve, and by the weeks end, I will be off it all together. I know this is the right thing for me to do.
That being said, I do plan on enjoying the occasional coffee or espresso when I visit the local coffee shops. "Everything in moderation" as they say.

Sidenote- Apparently beta blogger has issues with loading photos into the "about me" part. About every two weeks they lose my picture. I am kind of sick of uploading it, so until they fix it, it will stay blank. My apologies to my many, many fans.

Old Man Winter arrives......

First snow, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

This morning brought our first real snow storm. Todays High....25!

Holy War 06

Utah vs BYU 2006, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Saturday brought about the end of the college football season here in Utah. It ended with the football rivalry between the University of Utah (The U) and Brigham Young University (BYU). This particular battle is referred to as the "Holy War" amongst the locals. I haven't quite figured out why it has received this particular title since BYU is a private, religious based school and the U is a public university. I will leave you to draw your own conclusions.

Our little Mountain West game looks like a high school game compared to say.....the Michigan-Ohio game, or the Florida-Florida State game, but here it is THE game.
As I am a recovering former cheerleader, I won't go into the details of the game except to say that it was a GREAT game. If only all football games were as good as this one was. That being said, we (the U) did loose by 2 points 15 seconds after the clock had stopped. It was a jaw dropping ending that will go into playbook history.

I took some pictures that are on my Flickr page. It was a hazy day so they are kind of crappy. My $75 Walmart special ed. camera doesn't take that great of pictures, but you get the idea.

The Meaning of Thanksgiving

Last night I, like the other 200,000 residents of Salt Lake City, ventured out to purchase the remaining items needed for my Thanksgiving recipes. Traffic was chaotic, patience was limited, and what the hell is a rutabaga anyway?? I tried my best to be polite and respect the anxiety of the holiday.
As I sat in traffic waiting for a parking spot at the local grocery store, I observed what can only be described as sheer panic on the faces of those around me. Shoppers with their loot fleeing from the store trying to dodge cars as the drivers eyeball their parking spot; screaming, hungry kids hanging out of cars, mothers looking like that final straw has finally snapped, and people revving their engines to try and get that next available spot. As I am watching all of this take place, I pose a question to myself. What is all of this for? I began to reflect on a conversation that took place a few years ago.

Thanksgiving dinner 2000, my then 18 year old nephew leaned over to me at the dinner table and quietly asked me "What does Thanksgiving mean? What is it for?" I was surprised by his request, mostly because he asked this question of me (I am generally known as the black sheep in the family), and because I just assumed that growing up in a family that is deeply entrenched in Christian values, that this almost grown man would already have an answer to this question. Just as I started to open my mouth, his mother piped in.

I love my sister-in-law, she is a loving mother and a wonderful second grade teacher, but those of you that have spent anytime with teachers that teach small children, you know that sometimes they can start talking to adults the same way they talk to their students. I suppose it comes with the job if you love it as much as she does. She began to tell her son the story of the Pilgrims and the Indians (yes Indians, not Native Americans). He peered over at me with that look of "Help Me" written on his face. I smiled and said nothing. I might not be a mom myself, but I know never to offer advice or information that directly contradicts a mom when talking to their child.
We went ahead with the prayer and the feast. Afterwards I pulled him aside and asked him what he thought the meaning of Thanksgiving was. He stared at me, almost afraid to say anything. "Food, Family, and America," he said softly. "Sounds good to me," I replied, "I think Thanksgiving is anyway that you feel you can give thanks or be thankful for the life you have. I understand the story that began the tradition of Thanksgiving, but I believe it has evolved from that to be a more personal celebration of Thanks and gratitude." He grinned, said thank you, and went about eating his pumpkin pie.

As I sat in my car reflecting on this past conversation, all the while viewing the chaos before me, I wondered what I would tell him now. What am I thankful for this Thanksgiving?

I am thankful that my husband is home and not in Iraq or in some other country.
I am thankful that I am loved and that I love others.
I am thankful that my family and friends are all healthy.
I am thankful that I have a warm bed to sleep in every night and a fridge full of food.
I am thankful that I have my home and my health.
I am thankful for my laughter and the beauty that surrounds me everyday.
I am thankful that I am a woman living in this country.
I am thankful for the birds that sing their beautiful song every morning outside my window.

....and I am thankful that my husband and I have not jumped off a cliff or shot each other while remodeling this house (okay I had to add a little fun amongst all that seriousness!)

Have a wonderful and Happy Thanksgiving.

Morning Sunrise

This morning was so beautiful, I had to stop and take a picture.

Stay-at-home Millionaires?

Recently I have been accosted by friends and neighbors inviting me to their "home business" parties. In the last two weeks I have been invited to a Pampered Chef cooking party, a Scrapbooking party, a skin products party, a jewelry party, and most recently a "slumber party."

I am all for entrepreneurship and the desire for women to try and make extra money while being available to stay home with their kids. That being said, I do wonder if women buy into these businesses because they really think they can make the big bucks, or if it is just a way to get out and meet people. My hope is that it is the later. I have owned my own business, and it was my mine from the ground up. I will be the first to say that it takes a lot of work to make it successful.

My neighbor, who is having her skin products "open house" tomorrow, hasn't said more than 2 words to me in about 6 months, but has decided to invite me to this party. Now maybe I am just a skeptic by nature, but something about this bugs me. This idea of "come over and spend money so I can get rich, but the rest of the year I will barely acknowledge your existence" really kind of eats at me. Last spring she gave my husband a sample of this particular product to give to me. I used it, and within 48 hours my skin had formed red, crusty dry patches.
I threw the remaining product away. A week later she came over with the anticipation that I should place this huge order, I told her my sensitive skin couldn't handle it. She looked as if I had insulted her personally. That was when the conversations ended.....until the invite to the open house. Now there is this pressure to buy something just to make it appear that I am a supportive neighbor and not a complete cheapy.

Two days ago, I received an invitation from a long lost high school friend who I haven't seen since moving back and have only spoken to once on the phone. This particular party is called a "slumber party." After reading over the lengthy invitation I was a little confused. "No one under the age of 18 allowed" was written in bold letters across the top. Words like "Sensual and Edible creams," "Fun Toys (and I don't think they mean the X-Box)," "Romance Enhancement items" dotted the page. I looked at my husband, "is this what I think this is?" He read over it, "Whoa........What?" A grin formed on his face. "Is this a sex party?"
Yes folks, a sex toys party. Kind of the antithesis of the cooking party or the scrapbooking party. Now there are home businesses that cover all of a women's needs and/or desires.

Maybe I'm a prude, but I think a party like this might be better suited for say.....really good friends, not just friends you talk to once every 5 years. I don't think even I have the kahunas to go check out "toys" or sample strawberry flavored skin lotions with complete strangers. To say the least, I will be finding a reason to get out of this little get together. Call me crazy but I don't think I could muster up a conversation about whether or not it really does feel like the real thing with just anyone.

November

I realize that it is almost halfway into November, and I am late with my Sand County Almanac writing. After fighting that cold, I was challenged yet again with a stomach virus. I hope that I have managed to get both the cold and the flu out of the way for the season.

Axe-in-Hand

The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away, but He is no longer the only one to do so. When some remote ancestor of ours invented the shovel, he became a giver: he could plant a tree. And when the axe was invented, he became a taker: he could chop it down. Whoever owns land has thus assumed, whether he knows it or not, the divine functions of creating and destroying plants.
Other ancestors, less remote, have since invented other tools, but each of these , upon close scrutiny, proves to be either an elaboration of, or an accessory to, the original pair of basic implements. We classify ourselves into vocations, each of which either wields some particular tool, or sells it, or repairs it, or sharpens it, or dispenses advice on how to do so; by such division of labors we avoid responsibility for the misuse of any tool save our own. But there is one vocation-philosophy- which knows that all men, by what they think out and wish for, in effect wield all tools. It knows that men thus determine, by their manner of thinking and wishing, whether it is worth while to wield any.

It's getting cold out there

000_1115, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Last weekend while I was gasping and spewing with my cold, Larry and I took our nephew, David, up to the mountains so he could see snow. Being from California, it was the most snow he had seen. It was only October and this was just the first layer of snow this year. Only about 40 more feet to go.
This particular photo was taken of a small lake just below Brighton ski resort. Soon it will be under many feet of snow and won't resurface until next spring.

Germ Warfare

This last week I came down with a fairly bad chest cold. It was a gift from my husband, who brought it home with him after being away for a week. My immune system is usually pretty durable and can generally withstand the many colds and flues that float around every winter season. This one, however, has slapped me around, flipped me on my back, and made me cry "mama."

It first started with a dry, scratching throat, which then quickly turned into that pin cushion feeling that lets you know that this is no irritant. This is going to be worse, a lot worse. By the next morning, after listening to my husband saw down a forest all night, my lungs had filled up and the pressure was mounting around my ears and into my sinuses. Meanwhile, the goo filling up inside my nostrils must have run out of places to go and decided to set up residence in the cavity just behind my eyes. Bulging eyeballs, the tears began to form. Every time I would get that feeling that I was about to sneeze, my eyes would start to flow like Niagara Falls.

Day 2 brought forth the lung congestion with lots of fun flavored mucus. To go anywhere required Kleenex stuffed into every available pocket, purse, or occasional sleeve cuff, Tylenol, cough drops, and my homeopathic remedies.
To make matters even more challenging, my in-laws came up from California for my husband's birthday. Being sick sucks bad enough, but when you have a houseful of guest (including a teenager) all here for some big hoopty doo party that you haven't even started planning for, life becomes hell.
Every evening, after having to struggle to entertain, make food, and trying to be the good and happy daughter-in-law, my head began to feel like a cement brick.
After they left on Sunday afternoon, I found myself on the couch unable to move. I told my husband I wasn't leaving that spot for the rest of day. I stuck Season 2 of "Lost" in the DVD and laid there, mindless for the next 8 hours.

I often find myself feeling rather inferior and vulnerable when something so small, so unremarkable, can be so destructive. No matter how well we eat, how much we exercise, how many vitamin pills we ingest, we are all subject to the will of a little microscopic bug.

Happy cold and flu season!!!

The Pumpkin King returns!!

Yesterday I went to see Nightmare Before Christmas 3-D. If you are like me and haven't really gone to a movie in a theatre since the dawn of the cell phone age, you must remove your butt from the sofa and go see this movie while it's in the theatres.
The movie was great in the original format, but the 3-D really adds to the Tim Burton vision. All the characters really stand out and draw you in to the scenery.

The only draw back is the $1.50 extra charge per ticket for the lovely green framed 3-D glasses. However, they are yours to keep, which may come in handy for late night reading, Halloween costumes, or possibly as an extra seduction asset for a late night rendezvous.

Sixteen Cents

Today I went grocery shopping. Yeah! I know it is one of those really exciting weekly customs that we all get to enjoy. This time I found myself spending a rather lengthy period of time zoning out in the cleaning isle. Its not that I was looking for anything in particular, but I just stood there in some sort of trance staring at all the cleaners. Words bombarded me like "Sparkling," "Mountain Flowers (I guess they smell much better than say....city flowers)," Fresh Air," "Disinfectant," "Kills Germs," "Antibacterial," "Snuggly Softness," "Now with Ozone." MAKE IT STOP! I looked over at a guy leaning over his cart, that same look in his eyes while he sorted through the laundry detergent.
Too many choices.......what to get........$3.99 or $4.15. Does the extra lavender smell make it worth the $.16? What are the ounces? Price per ounce? Help......anyone.....help! Finally I gave up, grabbed the first thing I saw, threw it into my cart, tossed a pitiful look to the guy still staring at the ALL box, and made my way to the frozen food section. Geez, why does it have to be so hard? I just wanted some soap, some basic soap to wash dishes in.

As I walked away, I stared down at the Lavender scented soap in its lovely purple bottle. I picked it up, popped it open and took a deep whiff. Expecting to enter into some euphoric state, I was disappointed when lavender flowers did not dance in front of me, caress my skin, or de-stress my spirits. "What a sham" I mumbled to myself. "Definitely not worth that extra $.16."

Loss

I haven't written in while. I thought I would have had more time these last couple of days, but alas, I have not. Usually when hubby is away I get some free time to think and write, but this last week just flew by and I am still behind schedule.

What is strange is that I often think of different things I would like to write about. Everything from the latest movie I have seen to the dream I had last night, but when I sit in front of the computer my mind turns into a white puffy cloud were there isn't a drop of thought. Maybe there is just too much pressure to perform. But for whom.....? Very few that visit my blog (if any) actually know who I am, so what does it matter, right? That would seem to be the case, but I guess it is more personal pressure to say something worthwhile and articulate. I don't want to open my head and have it poop words all over the place. I suppose saying "poop" pretty much removes the "worthwhile and articulate" part. How about I just stick with honest.

The last couple of months, something has been eating at me, but I haven't been able to figure out how I really feel about it.
I have a cousin whom I was once very close to. We are 363 days apart (I am older), and until we were about 3-4, we were essentially raised together. I have always felt we had a strong bond even if we weren't near each other or when we hadn't spoken to each other for years. When I moved back to Utah, I was so excited to finally get to spend time with him again. Within a few weeks of moving back, I contacted him and it was like no time had passed. It was Ben and Bin again.
Within weeks we got together for dinner, movies, bike races, walks, parties, etc... . I met some of his friends and we all got along great.

I also new that he was very lonely having just ended a 9 year relationship. He really wanted to be married with the 2.5 kids, minivan, and white picket fence. He was in love with the whole "Leave it to Beaver" idea of life. I often laughed at his naivety, which in hindsight I should have looked a little deeper without the laughter. Being married for the many years I have, you soon realize that June must have been shooting up on a regular basis, and that good ol' Ward probably visited sex shops on his way home from work.
Reality is that marriage is more about a good friendship that can last and endure the pain life throws at you and not about the 4 bedroom 3 bath McMansion with side impact airbags and a six figure income for those "happy" family vacations.
I guess in my own way, I tried to tell him what I thought was true love, which conflicted with his fantasy he had concocted in his mind from childhood.

After a few months of paling around, I left to be with my husband in Germany. I was gone for many months and when I arrived home I called him to see how things went while I was away. To my surprise he had fallen madly in love with someone. "This is the one," he said. "I am crazy about her." My happiness quickly turned to uncertainty when he told me she was Mormon. Not just any Mormon, but return missionary and president of the Relief Society (which is the adult female part of the church). She also has a Masters degree from BYU. Okay, okay.....I held my breath as my own past memories of dating in Zion flashed before my eyes. I knew conversion would be eminent for this relationship to continue. I asked him what his plans were regarding the "religion" aspect of their relationship (I think you could hear the egg shells cracking in the background). He said that he had spoken with some missionaries she had brought to the house, and would probably be baptized soon. My jaw hit the floor.

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I told him I loved him and supported him and whatever he decided to do, I would always be there. I told him my only concern was that he was jumping into conversion without really giving it any thought. My fear was that he was leaping into a faith so he could soon jump into her pants. For me, when one considers the spirit and the guidance offered in so many religions for that spirit, one would take time to pray and meditate over it, at least for a few months. If he had called me up and said that he had been seeking a spiritual course, a religion to associate with, I would be happy for him no matter the church. But knowing that this was her wish, and his wish was to be with her and please her, his spirit was the up for grabs and he appeared more than willing to give it away.

After a few days, he called me to tell me that his baptism was scheduled in 3 weeks and he would like me to attend. I asked him if he felt that this was the right church for him. He said the missionaries have been over a few times and decided he was ready for baptism asap. "So you must believe that Mormon church is the one and only true church?" His response shocked me and confirmed my fears, "Nope. In fact, I told the missionaries that I didn't believe that Joesph Smith found any gold tablets or any of that stuff." Whaaatttt? "But they are still going to convert you?" I said, "Isn't that a cornerstone to their beliefs?" It's like saying your a Catholic but don't believe in Christ. The sad part was that he didn't seem to mind. It didn't matter to him one way or the other. He was doing it only to be with her, to make her happy, her family happy (her father wouldn't even say hello to him until he found out he would convert), and to fit in.

I attended the baptism and I won't go into great detail except to say that it was exactly what I expected. Everyone cried. His old family and friends and "their ways" (to quote the Bishop) were sad to see this wonderful, loving man be taken from their lives, and his new, worthy family and friends crying because he has found the "good and righteous" path. After being insulted at every front during the baptism and afterwards by the ward who apparently felt it was more appropriate behavior to stuff their faces with potato salad than to speak with any of Ben's family, I left and went home, quietly crying as if I had just been to a funeral.

After about a month, I called Ben because I missed him and wanted to see him. My husband had returned home and I was desiring to do couple stuff. I also thought if I made an effort, then it could still be possible to stay connected. I invited he and his now fiance, Erin over for dinner. I figured that if it was just the 4 of us, we could get to know each other and maybe become really good friends. This type of optimism is usually considered an endearing quality, but it usually sets me up for disappointment, this time being no different.

After being 45 minutes late, they showed up. The meat drying out and my husband already annoyed by me asking him not to drink any beer, we were a little pissed that they didn't call to say they would be so late. Additionally, Erin was getting a cold and appeared that she had just woken up. I understand not wanting to break plans, but when your sick, you need to call and reschedule, for every one's sake. The evening went on fairly well. Generally, Erin ignored me and only spoke to my husband about his career. The only words I received were that I was a "working widow." Unbeknownst to me, I was a victim of my husband's career. I found this statement not only insulting to me, but also to our marriage. Apparently respect for marriage in her eyes is only those marriages that fit her criteria of the "right" marriage. During dinner Ben and I joked with each other, like we always had. It was obvious that Erin did not approve. She just kind of sat there with a "Gosh, I would really rather be somewhere else" look on her face. The writing was on the wall. There would be no friendship brewing between her and I.

That gnawing optimism arose again when I decided to have a family party. I invited them in the hopes of having the whole family together so she might see that we were a fun loving family. The first thing we all noticed was that Ben, well......wasn't Ben. He had grown his hair out from his buzz cut to a rather homely bowl cut. He was the first to point out that it was her that wanted it longer for their wedding pictures. He seemed quiet, distant, and afraid to say anything. It was almost as if he had become ashamed of us, as if we were now somehow less acceptable to him. A year ago, he was being as goofy and fun as any of the rest of us, and now he sat in silence, hiding in the corner, holding her hand. After the party, I gave him a hug and said "call me, let's go out sometime." He smiled "yah, I will." I knew that would be the last time I would ever see Ben, the Ben I knew, again.

They were married 2 months later and I haven't heard from him since (10 months ago). Sometimes I want to call him just to say hi, to see how married life is treating him. But something stops me. I get to the phone, pull up his number, and then put the phone down. I feel that I have made an effort, even at trying to get to know Erin (she did manage to have 3 bridal showers, of which none of Ben's female family member were invited to attend). I feel angry, sad, resentful, and rejected.

I know I will be having another family party this holiday season. I will send him an invitation, but unlike past invites, I expect this one to be rejected. Like the Bishop said, my family and I are his old family with our "ways." He has chose this new, better path. Funny thing is, this is the church that preaches "family first." I guess some members believe that to mean only the families that believe the same way they do.

Mantis II

000_1063, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

Here the Mantis is posing for the camera. It appears she is looking right at me.

Preying Mantis

000_1065, originally uploaded by bindykay25.

The other day I was cleaning up the leaves in the yard and came across this huge Preying Mantis. I ran in and grabbed my camera. I think it is the largest Mantis I have ever seen.

Changes

My blog is changing. I have changed the template a number of times, and today decided to go for the Beta version.
I'm sure this won't be the last change with me at the helm.

Aldo's October

Like September, here is an excerpt from A Sand County Almanac for October where he discusses the annual arrival of the hunter...

"Early risers feel at ease with each other, perhaps because, unlike those who sleep late, they are given to understatement of their own achievements. Orion, the most widely traveled, says literally nothing. The coffee pot, from its first soft gurgle, underclaims the virtues of what simmers within. The owl, in his trysyllabic commentary, plays down the story of the night's murders. The goose on the bar, rising briefly to a point of order in some inaudible anserine debate, lets fall no hint that he speaks with the authority of all the far hills and the sea."

Enjoy!

Another busy week...

It has been one of those weeks where it seems there isn't a whole lot of extra time to sit and write. I did manage to get a short hike in though (as it takes precedence over most other things). Larry and I, with our friend Jed, did a hike in Millcreek canyon. Our trip took us to the SLC overlook. I was able to take some photos of the turning leaves.



















































My sister (electric.banana.) has informed me that I should utilize Flickr since I do download a lot of photos. I will have to check it out and see how that will work for me.


G'day