<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411</id><updated>2012-01-01T23:40:58.233+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fullers Pond</title><subtitle type='html'>Dedicated to the Loving Memory of
Elisabeth Ann Fuller-Mobbs
24/3/1928 - 14/12/2006</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>60</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-809853538357959528</id><published>2011-06-11T20:30:00.003+10:00</published><updated>2011-06-16T10:31:24.700+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories of Grandad Jonas Fuller</title><content type='html'>What all would You like to know about Grandpa Jo? it was just JO, not JOE. JO is short for Jonas. He was bald at 16. He only had a birthday once every 4 years, born on a leap year. He like to joke and play jokes. He love to go on Holiday and FISH, loved catching his beloved Pan Fish......... Rock Bass, Blue Gills, Perch.... when cleaned, 2 of them fit in a pan just right. He had a wonderful train set in the cellar too, started out with 'O' gauge and then switched over to "HO" Gauge. He was a licensed Electrition and the money he made doing that, Grandma would let him have for his trains and his fishing. I'll work on remembering more. Grandma Jo was Pennsylvania Dutch, German Decent. Rulapough was her Maiden name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another neat thing about Grandpa JO. For breakfast, he liked Corn Flakes and Eggs. Poach the eggs, put them in a small bowl and chop them up a bit, but NOT TOO MUCH. Some thought it was a raw egg, it wasn't, it was poached egg, but looked raw. Now, add the Corn Flakes and fill the bowl with milk and add a bit of sugar as YOU like. He also loved Peanut Butter, by the Table Spoon Full.&lt;br /&gt;I sent You how to make Grandpa Jo's poached eggs with Cornflakes. Go ahead and post that too. Some will say the eggs were raw, but they only looked raw, because of the way he poached them, whites would still be a wee bit runny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By Jim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-809853538357959528?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/809853538357959528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=809853538357959528' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/809853538357959528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/809853538357959528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2011/06/memories-of-grandad-jonas-fuller.html' title='Memories of Grandad Jonas Fuller'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-2922029849113779643</id><published>2010-12-09T08:16:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2010-12-09T14:43:02.007+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers Family Continues to Grow</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/TP_2JVXHM8I/AAAAAAAAAHc/J5qP7hnUedc/s1600/tj%2Bn%2Bco.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/TP_2JVXHM8I/AAAAAAAAAHc/J5qP7hnUedc/s320/tj%2Bn%2Bco.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548423906157081538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tj and Co..  Mj sitting next to Tj. Izzy sitting on Mum. Brandon sitting on Dad and Charlie sitting next to Dad.. Dec 2010&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-2922029849113779643?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/2922029849113779643/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=2922029849113779643' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2922029849113779643'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2922029849113779643'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2010/12/tj-and-co.html' title='Mothers Family Continues to Grow'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/TP_2JVXHM8I/AAAAAAAAAHc/J5qP7hnUedc/s72-c/tj%2Bn%2Bco.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-70291463977962101</id><published>2010-08-10T17:04:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2010-08-10T17:09:50.356+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Jim &amp; Mother</title><content type='html'>Was great to find another little snippet in my email to add here.&lt;br /&gt;This picture is from Jim and is of Mother &amp; Jim in Erin New York. Must be from Mother's last visit to the states in the mid 1990's .....&lt;br /&gt;I hope that Jim can &amp; will add more....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/TGD65ikbgvI/AAAAAAAABu0/0ourpLGF7DI/s1600/dad+and+grandma.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/TGD65ikbgvI/AAAAAAAABu0/0ourpLGF7DI/s400/dad+and+grandma.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503674611085837042" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you Jim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-70291463977962101?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/70291463977962101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=70291463977962101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/70291463977962101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/70291463977962101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2010/08/jim-mother.html' title='Jim &amp; Mother'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/TGD65ikbgvI/AAAAAAAABu0/0ourpLGF7DI/s72-c/dad+and+grandma.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-917857747498508897</id><published>2009-11-24T07:13:00.019+11:00</published><updated>2009-11-24T23:02:12.590+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Frangipani for Mother</title><content type='html'>Hi Family,&lt;br /&gt;Most of you know ive moved onto a frangipani nursery so I thought I would share a couple of pics seeing as they are all coming into flower about now... hope you enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;View from my bed&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrukOATgPI/AAAAAAAABq0/DuppfWDs2XM/s1600/new-3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrukOATgPI/AAAAAAAABq0/DuppfWDs2XM/s400/new-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407396608613777650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;From the gate looking up shade house&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Swruzw_N3II/AAAAAAAABq8/sTCYbmaTstg/s1600/new-4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Swruzw_N3II/AAAAAAAABq8/sTCYbmaTstg/s400/new-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407396875702492290" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Standing on a table in the court yard... you can just see DJ lurking in the shadows... you can see the sprinkler heads well beyond...&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwruTU3CsnI/AAAAAAAABqs/oX6xUhKAZj4/s1600/new-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwruTU3CsnI/AAAAAAAABqs/oX6xUhKAZj4/s400/new-1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407396318396199538" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Swrvh64NmOI/AAAAAAAABrc/p9pGPzS25WQ/s1600/new-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Swrvh64NmOI/AAAAAAAABrc/p9pGPzS25WQ/s400/new-2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407397668631451874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvBsPwQDI/AAAAAAAABrE/2iS4iXYMXTQ/s1600/new-5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvBsPwQDI/AAAAAAAABrE/2iS4iXYMXTQ/s400/new-5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407397114947846194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvMaGAL7I/AAAAAAAABrM/SNIlsw55Riw/s1600/new-6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvMaGAL7I/AAAAAAAABrM/SNIlsw55Riw/s400/new-6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407397299053670322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvWga2K2I/AAAAAAAABrU/415TaR4oOaU/s1600/new-7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrvWga2K2I/AAAAAAAABrU/415TaR4oOaU/s400/new-7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407397472550398818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrwFWAMPSI/AAAAAAAABrk/tw6JXbVTPho/s1600/new-8.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrwFWAMPSI/AAAAAAAABrk/tw6JXbVTPho/s400/new-8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407398277208096034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;DJ,my landlord,has his frangipani website here... http://www.djsway.com/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-917857747498508897?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/917857747498508897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=917857747498508897' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/917857747498508897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/917857747498508897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/11/frangipani-for-mother.html' title='Frangipani for Mother'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SwrukOATgPI/AAAAAAAABq0/DuppfWDs2XM/s72-c/new-3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-5725164651322126350</id><published>2009-07-24T20:21:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-24T20:28:11.770+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Brandon Roy Webster</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmmMZKnVU_I/AAAAAAAAAHE/ZnDr6ftxvos/s1600-h/Photo0152.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmmMZKnVU_I/AAAAAAAAAHE/ZnDr6ftxvos/s320/Photo0152.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361971195335234546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi all&lt;br /&gt;I have the great pleasure of introducing you to&lt;br /&gt;Brandon Roy Webster.&lt;br /&gt;Born 23rd July 2009, at 10.59 am.&lt;br /&gt;6.2 pounds, 10 fingers and 10 toes.&lt;br /&gt;I'm now at home with Mum, Dad and my 2 big sisters Mj and Charlie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-5725164651322126350?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/5725164651322126350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=5725164651322126350' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/5725164651322126350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/5725164651322126350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/07/brandon-roy-webster.html' title='Brandon Roy Webster'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmmMZKnVU_I/AAAAAAAAAHE/ZnDr6ftxvos/s72-c/Photo0152.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7369485090745966320</id><published>2009-07-18T19:04:00.004+10:00</published><updated>2009-07-18T19:13:11.986+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Jude's Granddaughters</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmGRd1jJuZI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kB9wRW7LjOE/s1600-h/Photo0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmGRd1jJuZI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kB9wRW7LjOE/s320/Photo0141.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359724973324351890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmGRWcENLdI/AAAAAAAAAG0/-6k3ladKi_E/s1600-h/Photo0142.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmGRWcENLdI/AAAAAAAAAG0/-6k3ladKi_E/s320/Photo0142.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359724846224584146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi All&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thought I would share with everyone new photo's I have gotten of my 2 beautiful granddaughters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mj on the left, is almost 3 and Charlie, on the right is almost 2.  The newest addition to Tj's growing bunch is due to make an arrival anyday now..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope they make you smile..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to all&lt;br /&gt;Jude&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7369485090745966320?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7369485090745966320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7369485090745966320' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7369485090745966320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7369485090745966320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/07/judes-granddaughters.html' title='Jude&apos;s Granddaughters'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SmGRd1jJuZI/AAAAAAAAAG8/kB9wRW7LjOE/s72-c/Photo0141.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7392704772441084786</id><published>2009-03-26T19:29:00.007+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T19:42:28.181+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Mum's Birthday 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;This year my very thoughtful husband decided I would spend Mum's Birthday visiting with her at Echo Point. It was a very special trip. First time I have been able to spend Mum's actual Birthday with her again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs_bm8InaI/AAAAAAAAAGs/3tvpOzfDNhE/s1600-h/Resize+of+24032009%28046%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs_bm8InaI/AAAAAAAAAGs/3tvpOzfDNhE/s320/Resize+of+24032009%28046%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317413528582790562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;On this trip we spotted what I think was a pair of Lyrebirds. There was also a pair of Yellow Tailed Cockatoos flying over head, but they didn't stop closely enough or for long enough to get a nice photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs_BaNi1HI/AAAAAAAAAGk/CYSMAlCjBCk/s1600-h/Resize+of+24032009%28070%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs_BaNi1HI/AAAAAAAAAGk/CYSMAlCjBCk/s320/Resize+of+24032009%28070%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317413078489551986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;We spent about 1 1/2 hours with Mum and then some rain clouds started moving in. It was Mum telling us to make the start for home. She knows it's a long 4 hour drive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs-jfeYu7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/uyaMczM9TuI/s1600-h/Resize+of+24032009%28043%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 237px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs-jfeYu7I/AAAAAAAAAGc/uyaMczM9TuI/s320/Resize+of+24032009%28043%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5317412564506295218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I again visited this little shop in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Katoomba&lt;/span&gt;, Heart of Stone, where I have picked up all the little friends within Betty's Garden. This time a precocious little fish called to me as I passed it by in a stone water feature the shop owner had set up. I'll put it in Betty's Garden for now, but when the new fish tank is up and running I might put it in there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I enjoyed our visit Mum and miss you terribly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;XOXOXO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7392704772441084786?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7392704772441084786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7392704772441084786' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7392704772441084786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7392704772441084786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/03/mums-birthday-2009.html' title='Mum&apos;s Birthday 2009'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/Scs_bm8InaI/AAAAAAAAAGs/3tvpOzfDNhE/s72-c/Resize+of+24032009%28046%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-602169955625986988</id><published>2009-03-11T14:21:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-11T14:28:34.046+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Big Dave takes on the BIG WALK!!!</title><content type='html'>Hi all not sure if Judy has told anyone or not but still I will if she hasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK so as some of you might know I've been on a weight loss journey for the last 19months and well I have lost 104kgs/228.8lbs as of today and well this is where you come in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I've gotten smaller my fitness has gone up and well I have been challenged to do a 5kms/3miles fun WALK/run for breast cancer research this is a close to my heart as it is to us all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So please sponsor me and the walk its all tax deductible for Australian residents for donations over $2 that is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you feel the need to sponsor me greast just follow the link.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="https://mothersdayclassic.trickytix.com.au/sponsor/view/14/david-bishop"&gt;sponsor me please&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would like more info about me and where I've come from and going to please visit my site. &lt;a href="http://www.bigdavesjourney.com"&gt;BIG Daves journey&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-602169955625986988?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/602169955625986988/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=602169955625986988' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/602169955625986988'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/602169955625986988'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/03/big-dave-takes-on-big-walk.html' title='Big Dave takes on the BIG WALK!!!'/><author><name>David</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3913685629104673049</id><published>2009-03-06T21:00:00.004+11:00</published><updated>2009-03-06T21:18:37.817+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Betty's Garden late Summer 2009</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Summer 2009 is almost over. The plants within Betty's Garden have loved the summer warmth and sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD0oO-xl0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/O5LEckVuS0Y/s1600-h/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 120px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD0oO-xl0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/O5LEckVuS0Y/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310012932723152706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Frangipani has more than doubled in stem and leaf growth. It produced more than 10 flowers - 2 are still in full bloom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD2i8EyXfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dwEKopDixns/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 160px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD2i8EyXfI/AAAAAAAAAFY/dwEKopDixns/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310015040772005362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;The Buzzy Lizzy's have thrived and are in constant bloom. They have grown from thin little seedling plants into healthy little shrubs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD22u9n61I/AAAAAAAAAFg/uWzcuZdRIF0/s1600-h/3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 154px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD22u9n61I/AAAAAAAAAFg/uWzcuZdRIF0/s320/3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310015380849683282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;All the while I have sat in the garden swing remembering the love and laughter I shared with Mum 'Betty' in summers pasted. In turn sharing love and laughter with my family and friends in Summer 2009.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are always in my heart and in my thoughts.&lt;br /&gt;Missing you more today than yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3913685629104673049?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3913685629104673049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3913685629104673049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3913685629104673049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3913685629104673049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2009/03/bettys-garden-late-summer-2009.html' title='Betty&apos;s Garden late Summer 2009'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SbD0oO-xl0I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/O5LEckVuS0Y/s72-c/1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-8073871891765554468</id><published>2008-12-28T20:41:00.015+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-28T20:54:38.032+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Betty's Garden has grown.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMgYU9tQI/AAAAAAAAAEY/sqbcx72iq-A/s1600-h/Photo0104.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMgYU9tQI/AAAAAAAAAEY/sqbcx72iq-A/s320/Photo0104.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284776806912472322" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As predicted Betty's Garden has grown a little more again. There is now a lovely garden swing and the planting has spread to the other side of the swing to include an old metal wash tub filled with Lavender. I have a mix of the dried Lavender blooms and some of the dried rose blooms from Mum's bouquet's as potpourri in my bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMY1LvCsI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tEWwDqgrdsA/s1600-h/Photo0110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMY1LvCsI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/tEWwDqgrdsA/s320/Photo0110.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284776677219437250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Mum's Frangipani is flowering well with 2 more blooms opened. I have it next to the Port Wine Magnolia. In each pot now lives the little treasures I found at Echo Point while visiting with Mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMDJQLkqI/AAAAAAAAAD4/upsdHIA8P34/s1600-h/Photo0102.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMDJQLkqI/AAAAAAAAAD4/upsdHIA8P34/s320/Photo0102.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284776304649671330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On the other side of the garden is our windmill and overflowing barrel. A lovely cottage garden mix of blooms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missing you more each passing day Mum.&lt;br /&gt;I hope Betty's Garden brings a smile to your beautiful face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-8073871891765554468?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/8073871891765554468/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=8073871891765554468' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8073871891765554468'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8073871891765554468'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/12/bettys-garden-has-grown.html' title='Betty&apos;s Garden has grown.'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SVdMgYU9tQI/AAAAAAAAAEY/sqbcx72iq-A/s72-c/Photo0104.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-443489628461039574</id><published>2008-12-14T08:02:00.002+11:00</published><updated>2008-12-14T08:04:41.906+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Betty's Garden at home ..</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SUQjTSMsuCI/AAAAAAAAACI/xkx6XKDQKCg/s1600-h/momplants1+%2818%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SUQjTSMsuCI/AAAAAAAAACI/xkx6XKDQKCg/s320/momplants1+%2818%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279383477394651170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SUQjGufJcuI/AAAAAAAAACA/D13-uMNqL0w/s1600-h/momplants1+%281%29.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SUQjGufJcuI/AAAAAAAAACA/D13-uMNqL0w/s320/momplants1+%281%29.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5279383261649924834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is the 2nd Anniversary of Mum's passing. I hope everyone will take a moment to sit, reflect and remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I often take a moment or 5 to sit and remember Mum. Her love of plants inspired me to make a memorial garden here at home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few plants that were special to Mum, Bizzy Lizzy's  ( Impatients ), a Frangipani, a Crepe Myrtle. I also have a few that are special to me, a Daphnie Adora, a Red Japanese Maple, a Port Wine Magnolia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scattered among the plants are little treasures like a frog and a turtle. I buy a little treasure at Echo Point each trip up to visit with Mum. Bruce the Garden Gnome keeps an eye on everything within Betty's Garden, so feel free to relax, refresh and spend a moment or 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum, I miss you more with each passing day. I know you are watching me everytime I look at your garden here at home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-443489628461039574?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/443489628461039574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=443489628461039574' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/443489628461039574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/443489628461039574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/12/bettys-garden-at-home.html' title='Betty&apos;s Garden at home ..'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SUQjTSMsuCI/AAAAAAAAACI/xkx6XKDQKCg/s72-c/momplants1+%2818%29.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7600924543951471142</id><published>2008-11-12T20:42:00.012+11:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T20:20:05.357+11:00</updated><title type='text'>"Tell Me A Story"</title><content type='html'>This oil portrait titled "Tell Me A Story" was painted by Anne Kane, a personal friend of Mum's. It was painted in 1998 and entered into that years Archibald Prize.  The Archibald Prize is one of Australia's oldest and most prestigious art awards.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SRwN47-pMZI/AAAAAAAABag/2z3FSFwyHLk/s1600-h/MothersPortrait_Judy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 420px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SRwN47-pMZI/AAAAAAAABag/2z3FSFwyHLk/s400/MothersPortrait_Judy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268100935940911506" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say it is now, most importantly, a precious family heirloom.&lt;br /&gt;**Edit by Joe** A Huge Thanks to Judy and Dave for making the 1000 mile return journey to collect Mother's Portrait.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Ri7V2ywDU_I/AAAAAAAAA-E/69r52LSi-bw/s640/portrate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 425px; height: 640px;" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Ri7V2ywDU_I/AAAAAAAAA-E/69r52LSi-bw/s640/portrate.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As you can see in both photo's, it &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;IS&lt;/span&gt; a life size portrait!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7600924543951471142?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7600924543951471142/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7600924543951471142' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7600924543951471142'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7600924543951471142'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/11/tell-me-story.html' title='&quot;Tell Me A Story&quot;'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SRwN47-pMZI/AAAAAAAABag/2z3FSFwyHLk/s72-c/MothersPortrait_Judy.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7482106794661375520</id><published>2008-09-13T22:32:00.001+10:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T22:34:23.785+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Mum's Blanket</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SMuzM5u08AI/AAAAAAAAABk/WT3HRXcFg_w/s1600-h/3sis+fog.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SMuzM5u08AI/AAAAAAAAABk/WT3HRXcFg_w/s320/3sis+fog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5245483225240104962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave and I made a 2 day trip to visit with Mum. On an early morning drive to the 3 Sister's Lookout, Katoomba NSW, this is the sight that was before us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a wonderful blanket for Mother to draw upon herself as she rolls over in slumber. Mother's lookout is to the right of this picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Mum and miss you dearly.. XOXOXO&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7482106794661375520?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7482106794661375520/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7482106794661375520' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7482106794661375520'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7482106794661375520'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/09/mums-blanket.html' title='Mum&apos;s Blanket'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SMuzM5u08AI/AAAAAAAAABk/WT3HRXcFg_w/s72-c/3sis+fog.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-287861360193693571</id><published>2008-07-04T22:44:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T22:59:39.993+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 4th Of July 2008</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SG4ejavpcTI/AAAAAAAAABc/2U0bntq6EaQ/s1600-h/momflag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219142611992408370" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SG4ejavpcTI/AAAAAAAAABc/2U0bntq6EaQ/s320/momflag.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is my humble honour this year to 'fly' the flag for our beloved Mother.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have made a little memorial of things special to me and Mum.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The US Flag takes pride of place, always in my vision while I'm at my computer.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Nestled alongside the US Flag is a priceless photo of our Mother and her beautiful sister Sylvia. I also have a scented candle burning as I do most nights, my little offer of a ' Candle of Hope '.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I miss you terrible Mum and long to hold you again.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;XOXOXOXOXO&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-287861360193693571?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/287861360193693571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=287861360193693571' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/287861360193693571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/287861360193693571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/07/happy-4th-of-july-2008.html' title='Happy 4th Of July 2008'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_2bHja38xuhQ/SG4ejavpcTI/AAAAAAAAABc/2U0bntq6EaQ/s72-c/momflag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-9034967403021704964</id><published>2008-07-03T18:06:00.002+10:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T18:13:15.747+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Jonas Fuller Death Certificate</title><content type='html'>Below is an email I received from Jim.&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Heaps Jim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi everyone,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The attachment is just wonderful, a little hard to read but it's great Fuller history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 weeks ago, I sat down and talked with Bill and Barb Tite from Michigan.  They were in town to visit there son, Bill Jr., who runs one of the many Horse Farms in the area. Now, lets see if you can all follow this, Bill Sr.'s grandmother was Lydia Fuller. Mom's grandfather was Miles Fuller. Lydia and Miles were brother and sister. Their father was Josiah Fuller and his father was Jonas Fuller, the one that walked down from Vermont.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone of you now have a copy of the death certificate of Jonas Fuller, you can read the signature of Josiah on it too, down near the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;Now, more neat news. Jonas Luther Fuller.  On Bill's mother's side of the family is a Luther Seeley (spelling) and it's looking like that is where Grandpa's middle name came from. They were all very close knit bunch too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SGyJ7iv7SKI/AAAAAAAABNo/tL3CFWD-nM8/s1600-h/Jonas_Fuller_DC.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SGyJ7iv7SKI/AAAAAAAABNo/tL3CFWD-nM8/s400/Jonas_Fuller_DC.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5218697724248672418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-9034967403021704964?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/9034967403021704964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=9034967403021704964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9034967403021704964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9034967403021704964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/07/jonas-fuller-death-certificate.html' title='Jonas Fuller Death Certificate'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/SGyJ7iv7SKI/AAAAAAAABNo/tL3CFWD-nM8/s72-c/Jonas_Fuller_DC.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3954180695955980432</id><published>2008-02-25T20:49:00.009+11:00</published><updated>2008-02-25T21:16:07.134+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Fuller Family Pictures</title><content type='html'>Jim and Aunt Sylvia have been sending pics &amp; info back and forth... so here is some faces to put names to of our past.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou Jim&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou Aunt Sylvia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi All,&lt;br /&gt;Please "meet" EMMA  PEET  FULLER. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KREvX-7II/AAAAAAAABIc/D2g67HtjCTQ/s1600-h/Emma+C.+Peet+Fuller.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KREvX-7II/AAAAAAAABIc/D2g67HtjCTQ/s400/Emma+C.+Peet+Fuller.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170854832797314178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Emma Peet was the  wife of Josiah when she was 20. Their son was Miles, father of Jonas Luther......  Grandpa  Jo. They were also the parents of Lydia who married into the Seeley  Family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please "meet" Miles Fuller. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KSXvX-7JI/AAAAAAAABIk/dsVWBIcg_po/s1600-h/Miles+Fuller.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KSXvX-7JI/AAAAAAAABIk/dsVWBIcg_po/s400/Miles+Fuller.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170856258726456466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The guy standing is, Miles Fuller. The boy on the fence that has shoes on, is Jonas Luther Fuller, Miles son.... We knew him as Grandpa Jo, Mom's Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Josiah Fuller with his Grand Kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KS9fX-7LI/AAAAAAAABI0/RG2Rq16yBqk/s1600-h/JOSIAH~1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KS9fX-7LI/AAAAAAAABI0/RG2Rq16yBqk/s400/JOSIAH~1.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170856907266518194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As per Aunt Sylvia: Standing on the left is Gladys Fuller, daughter of Carl who is Grandpa Jo's brother, Boy in front of her is George Bouse, son of Ellen Fuller Bouse, Grandpa's sister. Then, Aunt Sylvia is on the right in front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please "meet" Lydia Fuller / Seeley. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KSo_X-7KI/AAAAAAAABIs/GAq9PtK2sgg/s1600-h/Lydia+Loella.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KSo_X-7KI/AAAAAAAABIs/GAq9PtK2sgg/s400/Lydia+Loella.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170856555079199906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Lydia is  Miles' sister.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have met Bill and Barb Tite, of Michigan. Bill is from  the Lydia Fuller / Seeley branch. Their son, Bill Tite III, lives here in  Lexington!!!!!!!!!!!! Barb has the full family tree, going back to england and  is going to give me a copy of it when she comes down to visit her son, next  month.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jim&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3954180695955980432?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3954180695955980432/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3954180695955980432' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3954180695955980432'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3954180695955980432'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/02/hi-all-please-meet-emma-peet-fuller.html' title='Fuller Family Pictures'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R8KREvX-7II/AAAAAAAABIc/D2g67HtjCTQ/s72-c/Emma+C.+Peet+Fuller.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-5866394661084825231</id><published>2008-01-09T19:04:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2008-01-09T19:07:18.563+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple pleasures shine the brightest</title><content type='html'>Growing up there was no money for big fancy holidays. We looked forward to camping holidays up on the NSW central coast. Mum always tried to find a place near the beach. One of our favorite places was Shelly Beach, in the Lake District, near The Entrance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We always took our own tent and cooking gear. It was great roasting marshmallows over the fire while listening to the surf crash on the shore. In latter years we had a camp stove that used bottled gas but Mum always made a fire for the marshmallows.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I barely remember 1 fantastic storm where the wind and the rain was so strong that Joe and Mum had to go out into the storm and try to batten down the tent pegs. I stayed in the tent screaming and crying, and all I could hear was Mum yelling at Joe over the sound of the thunder to “get this peg “and then “Joe over here, on this side.” All the while Mum was laughing at me and the commotion I was causing. Then, in a pause in the storm, Mum would pop her head into the tent to laugh at me again and say “Chickadee there is nothing to be scared of. You and I have seen worse storms than this."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then early the next morning it was a treat to search the beach to see what the storm had washed ashore. Looking back on those times and with adult eyes, I can see the childish glee in Mum's eyes as we combed the shoreline for the marvels of the deep. Every rock pool was a new adventure. Every shell held to our ears sang a different song. It was with Mum that my love of the beach began.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another year we spent the Easter holidays at this same beach. I worried that the Easter Bunny would not find us if we were not home. Mum had a quiet giggle to herself and said that just like Santa, the Easter Bunny would 'just know' where we were and I was not to worry. Needless to say the Easter Bunny 'just knew' we were there and left Easter eggs for us at the foot of our sleeping bags.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even on my last holiday with Mum, if only for a day, we went to South Stradbroke Island Resort. Mum lunched on fresh Seafood caught locally. We took a ride over to the ocean side of the island and strolled along the beach. Again finding shells and holding them to our ears and listening to their song.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took these experiences and used them in the making of holiday memories with my children. I didn't have money for fancy holidays with them either, but we managed a few nice camping holidays. I shared with them the joys of the beach after a storm, just like Mum did with us. I looked into their eyes seeing their childish joy in finding a nice big shell, just like Mum did with us. I showed them the stars of Orion and The Southern Cross, just like Mum did with us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even in ways we are not aware of, we are all like our Mum. I look forward to being able to share more of Mum's hand-me-down ways with my grandchildren. I was able to watch Mum with her grandkids, my kids, and I saw again the childish glee in her eyes of a perfectly formed sandcastle. And the giggles as the waves of high tide washed it away. The joy of a picnic on the back lawn in autumn, nothing fancy just leftovers and sandwiches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all my memories of times shared with Mum, it is the times of sharing the simple pleasures that life has to offer, that shine the brightest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum you are my 'First star at night' that I make a wish upon every night. I love you and miss you terribly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-5866394661084825231?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/5866394661084825231/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=5866394661084825231' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/5866394661084825231'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/5866394661084825231'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2008/01/simple-pleasures-shine-brightest.html' title='Simple pleasures shine the brightest'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3372233196722327030</id><published>2007-12-24T22:14:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-24T22:40:55.053+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Twas The Night Before Christmas</title><content type='html'>Twas The Night Before Christmas&lt;br /&gt;Sitting alone in my house&lt;br /&gt;When my favorite voice said&lt;br /&gt;Get up and get out&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Go forth tonight&lt;br /&gt;And share my Christmas Spirit&lt;br /&gt;The one that I showed you&lt;br /&gt;The one in your heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with that voice came&lt;br /&gt;A flood of thought and good cheer&lt;br /&gt;A warm thought of sharing&lt;br /&gt;That would last many a year&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So with my plan devised&lt;br /&gt;Beautiful rain &amp;amp; mist a blowing&lt;br /&gt;I headed to find my goal&lt;br /&gt;The outcome was mine unknowing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Strange glares and points of question&lt;br /&gt;Then followed me around&lt;br /&gt;As one by one throughout the crowds&lt;br /&gt;Giggles and laughter would then abound&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With my Christmas stocking but empty&lt;br /&gt;An elderly lady commanded my look&lt;br /&gt;She then proceeded to kiss me on the cheek&lt;br /&gt;As she thanked Mother &amp;amp; I for her copy of the "Loo Book"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(c) Joe Payne&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Merry Christmas Mother&lt;br /&gt;Your Memory and Spirit Shall Live Forever&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3372233196722327030?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3372233196722327030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3372233196722327030' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3372233196722327030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3372233196722327030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/12/twas-night-before-christmas.html' title='Twas The Night Before Christmas'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4773104206998295070</id><published>2007-12-19T18:16:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-12-19T19:21:32.918+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Sadness and Memories</title><content type='html'>Its been a long year. One that we all have come through and endured in our own ways. For me it has been the saddest year of my life.&lt;br /&gt;The loss of my best friend and Our Beloved Mother.&lt;br /&gt;Reliving every day since August, one by one almost as if it were a count down and none were to be missed.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday rereading the emails I sent each day 12 months ago.&lt;br /&gt;Everyday still feels like the first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just didnt have the strength last year to put a tree up. I didnt think I could this year either.&lt;br /&gt;As Judy and I were wondering about the house with box's and odd's and ends strewn about, I heard this little voice in my head...&lt;br /&gt;"Judy!!, Jody!!... Where is my Christmas Tree??"&lt;br /&gt;As I mentioned this to Judy I could see my feelings in her eyes. Judy confirmed that she too was less than enthousiastic to put a tree up this year and that her husband Dave was the main instigator. So as hard as it was we started on a small, 18inch "mini-tree" that Mother had. A couple of hours later as I was coming up the stairs I looked at Judy and repeated the same again..&lt;br /&gt;"Judy!!, Jody!!... Where is my Christmas Tree??" .... I had Mother's Tree in my arms.&lt;br /&gt;We then proceeded to decorate Mother's Christmas Tree... including a candle each, for Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R2jH3T_l4rI/AAAAAAAABIU/Gnu5yRINOhM/s1600-h/Memorial1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R2jH3T_l4rI/AAAAAAAABIU/Gnu5yRINOhM/s400/Memorial1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145582327344521906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish to say a special Thank You to our little sister Judy.&lt;br /&gt;You have been a stern support for me over the years, showing again this weekend, your never ending charity and love. Your visit here over the past 5 days was the only tonic to get me through. I couldnt have finished my duties without your presence, love and support .... I am always in your debt.&lt;br /&gt;Also a big Thank You must go to Dave and Brett for being Judy's support this past year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following is a little poem written on a Memorial Card and was read aloud at Mother's Memorial Service's last year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;The Candle of Hope&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Light a candle for me this Christmas,&lt;br /&gt;To share that hope lives within,&lt;br /&gt;For even though we are now parted,&lt;br /&gt;One day we will meet again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watch the flame as it dances and flickers,&lt;br /&gt;Watch as my memory lives on,&lt;br /&gt;In the hearts of all who are gathered,&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate this Christmas time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Light a candle for me this Christmas,&lt;br /&gt;It's in hope that we'll meet again,&lt;br /&gt;In the land of no sorrow or mourning,&lt;br /&gt;In the land where there is no pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Light a candle for me this Christmas,&lt;br /&gt;To celebrate all that I was,&lt;br /&gt;And may angels gather around you,&lt;br /&gt;To bring comfort when you're feeling lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At Christmas, We Remember....&lt;br /&gt;You will always have a special place within our hearts.&lt;br /&gt;Loving Memory of&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeth Ann Fuller-Mobbs&lt;br /&gt;24th March 1928 - 14th December 2006&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our Undying Love is Yours Forever.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4773104206998295070?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4773104206998295070/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4773104206998295070' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4773104206998295070'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4773104206998295070'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/12/sadness-and-memories.html' title='Sadness and Memories'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/R2jH3T_l4rI/AAAAAAAABIU/Gnu5yRINOhM/s72-c/Memorial1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3112534094470222089</id><published>2007-11-17T17:07:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T17:13:05.325+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Music Videos</title><content type='html'>Just for you Mother....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="400" height="300"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/p/58422DFFD0D9A6A0" /&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent" /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/p/58422DFFD0D9A6A0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="470" height="406" wmode="transparent"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Will Love You Always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3112534094470222089?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3112534094470222089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3112534094470222089' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3112534094470222089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3112534094470222089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/11/music-videos.html' title='Music Videos'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1592144670735169289</id><published>2007-11-04T19:23:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T21:01:14.578+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Looking....</title><content type='html'>Ive found myself looking back into the past&lt;br /&gt;To see a blurr of ups-n-downs&lt;br /&gt;From a mainsail torn from its mast&lt;br /&gt;To my glowing Mother in a sparkling ballgown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive found myself looking around about the present&lt;br /&gt;To see a blurr of ups-n-downs&lt;br /&gt;No celebrated birthdays or aniversary present&lt;br /&gt;Just the continuing thoughts make me frown&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive found myself not looking forward to the future&lt;br /&gt;Seeing a blurr of ups-n-downs&lt;br /&gt;Life is like this by nature&lt;br /&gt;But you must first survive the downs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive found myself looking around at nothing in particular&lt;br /&gt;To find the most intricate detail so easily missed&lt;br /&gt;The quiet emptyness so draining, so intense, so demure&lt;br /&gt;Continues the storm of emotions and drives the rain and the mist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive found myself looking and needing to find myself&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1592144670735169289?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1592144670735169289/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1592144670735169289' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1592144670735169289'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1592144670735169289'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/11/looking.html' title='Looking....'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4236139650532478297</id><published>2007-08-24T19:24:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-08-25T16:12:48.350+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Josiah O Fuller ,  Ivah Ruth Fuller &amp; Alonzo Curren</title><content type='html'>Firstly a very special Thankyou to Pam &amp; Todd Curren who have supplied the pictures, also to Dorie for the family communications she has been involved in with Pam and others, also forwarding them to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pam indicates that the back of this picture say's "Josiah O. Fuller with his Greatgrandkids".... (Edit from Joe) I am then simply assuming that Jonas Luther Fuller &amp; Ivah Ruth Fuller-Curren would then be included in this picture, but as my eldest brother Jim reminds me &gt; Josiah O. Fuller had many many greatgrand children.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rs6nts773WI/AAAAAAAABG4/64OtBNXx_dw/s1600-h/JosiahFullerggrandkids.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rs6nts773WI/AAAAAAAABG4/64OtBNXx_dw/s400/JosiahFullerggrandkids.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102199831455849826" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pam says this is a photo of Ivah Ruth Fuller &amp; Alonzo Curren on their wedding day, Jack Curren's parents &amp; Todd Curren's Grandparents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rs6n8M773XI/AAAAAAAABHA/wcKoKMX58vo/s1600-h/Curren,AlonzoandIvahwhentheyweremarried.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rs6n8M773XI/AAAAAAAABHA/wcKoKMX58vo/s400/Curren,AlonzoandIvahwhentheyweremarried.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102200080563953010" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It realy is fantastic to be able to put a face to a name.&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou ever so much Pam for sharing these with us all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4236139650532478297?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4236139650532478297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4236139650532478297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4236139650532478297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4236139650532478297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/08/josiah-o-fuller-ivah-ruth-fuller-alonzo.html' title='Josiah O Fuller ,  Ivah Ruth Fuller &amp; Alonzo Curren'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rs6nts773WI/AAAAAAAABG4/64OtBNXx_dw/s72-c/JosiahFullerggrandkids.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3411632385263210897</id><published>2007-08-16T20:56:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-08-21T17:17:20.380+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers Life &amp; Love of Organs</title><content type='html'>I dont know when Mother's first experience of playing an organ was but I do know and strongly remember her love of organs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember as a child still in USA Mother playing the organ for church and I was helper with lighting candles and as bell ringing, bouncing up and down on that huge bell rope, or as it seemed to an 8 year old.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was ever so pleased to hear Mother mention her previous organ playing in the video I posted - &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pu-5kJMEvoA"&gt;USA Visit, Cayuta.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Upon arrival in Australia after moving into our first house Mother got her first organ here. I also remember as an 14 year old here in Australia playing a recital in church with Mother playing the organ and I the trumpet, we played 3 pieces much to the amazement and amusement of the congregation. Mother was ever so flattered by the compliments we recieved.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know for fact that Mother's most memorable, cherished &amp; honoured moment in time was her invitation by "The Order Of The Easter Star" to play organ for their "Grand United District Ball" .... the organ Mother was to play was the famous&lt;a href="http://www.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/Business/VenuesForHire/SydneyTownHall/GrandOrgan.asp"&gt;"Grand Organ" in Sydney Town Hall&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RsQ0tc773VI/AAAAAAAABGw/rCAP5hZzT-I/s1600-h/grandorgan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RsQ0tc773VI/AAAAAAAABGw/rCAP5hZzT-I/s200/grandorgan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099258633556581714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Unfortunately no pictures or recording of this event exist to my knowledge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother continued to own &amp; play organs into her last year of life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One organ piece in particular I ran accross as a teenager absolutely took my breath away, Mother gave me a personal attachment to it by saying it was "The most powerfull piece of organ music ever composed"... Mother's words perfectly described my emotion upon hearing it. I never could remember the name or composer, even telling Kevin some weeks ago that I wish I could remember the name and saying to him, "How do you describe a piece of organ music trying to identify it" ... so I started to sing it.. to no avail, Kevin must have thought I was looney. About 4 weeks ago at my shop I asked a regular customer, a lovely elderly lady of near Mother's generation about this piece... so I started to sing it.... she said the sound was familiar but could not help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My search for music with no name or composer continued... until tonight,&lt;br /&gt;Ive found it!! Bach: Toccata &amp;amp; Fugue in D-minor BWV 565&lt;br /&gt;I have added it to Mother's Music and it is the starting music on opening "Fullers Pond" for the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As all classical music goes, and I am definately no expert, there are many recordings / tempo's by many different artists... I have to say that the version I have added is very good but I have found a supremely higher quality recording, this recording stirred that same emotion of many years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This recital is Copywrite by Frederik Magle and is absolutely stunning, played on the famous organ in Riga Cathederal, Latvia (Russia). I strongly recommend visiting &lt;a href="http://www.magle.dk/music-forums/23-bach-toccata-fugue-d.html"&gt;Frederik Magle's Site&lt;/a&gt; and reading the info about the Riga Catheredal Pipe Organ.&lt;br /&gt;Listen to Frederik Magle's recital of &lt;a href="http://www.cyberorganist.com/audio/bach-toccata-and-fugue-in-d-minor-%28frederik-magle%29.mp3"&gt;"Bach: Toccata &amp;amp; Fugue in D-minor BWV 565"&lt;/a&gt; (Dont forget to pause "Betty's Juke Box")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Love of Music began with Mother's Love of Music.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Love You Always Mother&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3411632385263210897?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3411632385263210897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3411632385263210897' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3411632385263210897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3411632385263210897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/08/mothers-live-love-of-organs.html' title='Mothers Life &amp; Love of Organs'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RsQ0tc773VI/AAAAAAAABGw/rCAP5hZzT-I/s72-c/grandorgan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4036480876903080722</id><published>2007-08-04T15:49:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-08-19T14:28:58.520+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Newest Generation of Fuller</title><content type='html'>Congratulations to Charolette &amp; Congratulations to the Newest Fuller Grandmother, Dorie!!!&lt;br /&gt;Introducing Madelyn Marie Stringer born 1st Aug 2007.&lt;br /&gt;Awww Isnt She So Cute !&lt;br /&gt;Hi World! Im now home with my mom :)&lt;br /&gt;Edit: Sorry - Photo's removed by request.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4036480876903080722?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4036480876903080722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4036480876903080722' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4036480876903080722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4036480876903080722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/08/newest-generation-of-fuller.html' title='Newest Generation of Fuller'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-265520495772596174</id><published>2007-07-22T17:33:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-07-31T14:05:47.311+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Fullers Pond Family Tree</title><content type='html'>Hi All ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As per previous emails ive explored starting an internet family tree....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Click on this link to &lt;a href="http://fullerspond.familytreeguide.com/tree_index.php"&gt;Fullers Pond Family Tree&lt;/a&gt; and join this "Family Tree" site as well .... all info from everyone is needed to ensure this Family Tree is a success for future generations!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this stage this is the best programme I can find for this purpose... its not as "pretty" as I would like it to be but these are the shortcomings of free internet software. It is a little confusing to navigate to start with so take your time, I found that the "Pedigree &amp; &lt;a href="http://fullerspond.familytreeguide.com/descend.php?personID=I2&amp;amp;tree=1"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://fullerspond.familytreeguide.com/descend.php?personID=I53&amp;tree=1"&gt;Descendancy&lt;/a&gt;" options show the tree well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Firstly, a couple of rules!&lt;br /&gt;PLEASE DO NOT BREAK THESE RULES !!!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A) Privacy (a)&lt;/span&gt;- Living Family Members - If a living family member does not appear on this updated family tree site it is because of their wish's - direct all enquiries to them, not me... im only following their wish's! ... also if you wish for your details to be omitted please email me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;B) Privacy (b)-&lt;/span&gt; Living Family Members - Due to the very high number of "Info Bots" always searching the internet for more "Big Brother Info"... I have purposely omitted Birth Dates, Marriage Dates and all other personal info and ask that anyone adding data to this tree respect this same privacy for everyone. (See attached pic of "Info Bots")&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqMM2QlBvLI/AAAAAAAABEg/Cp8Kn92GML0/s1600-h/FTBots.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqMM2QlBvLI/AAAAAAAABEg/Cp8Kn92GML0/s400/FTBots.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089926130161532082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;C) Accuracy -&lt;/span&gt; As per Jim's email comment - any info that is added must be accurate! Please feel free to address all of my spelking mistakes... Thanks Jim :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I do Hope &amp; Trust that everyone will pay all "Due Respect" for all our Family Members -Past&amp;amp;Present- as to the intentions of any ommitions &amp;amp; additions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love to All&lt;br /&gt;Joe&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-265520495772596174?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/265520495772596174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=265520495772596174' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/265520495772596174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/265520495772596174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/07/fullers-pond-family-tree.html' title='Fullers Pond Family Tree'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqMM2QlBvLI/AAAAAAAABEg/Cp8Kn92GML0/s72-c/FTBots.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-8694709329270682117</id><published>2007-07-17T18:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-07-17T18:33:32.950+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit with Kevin 17th July</title><content type='html'>Hi All ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went and visited with Kevin for the day. It has been over 6 weeks since my last visit. He has been to visit it his sister in Taree - 10hrs drive south. He had a nice visit with other relatives as well.... was good to have him return safe as he drove himself the entire trip, doing the write thing and stopping heaps and with an overnite stop half way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We chatted for a while before one of his neighbors noticed I was visiting and insisted we stop over for coffee. Then the conversation turned twards fish tanks - not by my doing - the neighbors husband has recently passed away making conversation even harder as it was he &amp; I that did all the chatting in the past. She asked if I would take the fish tank away as she had no knoweldge of it and to add to it, she is not very mobile as it is..... so the day quickly dropped in overall tone.... the main topic was now turned into one of our mutual loss's of loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the tank was empty and loaded Kevin invited me back for another coffee (im realy getting bloated now!!!) ..... and started a conversation with ...&lt;br /&gt;"Well Joe, its time I admit something that ive kept from you for 6 months" .... "When we were waiting for a death certificate, I didnt tell you the whole truth about the length of time that it had taken" ...... "When I recieved the death cert I noticed first it wasnt your mothers Dr's name on it, then I re-looked at the name {Elizabeth Anne Mobbs}.... so after a couple of phone calls, as it happens.... both ladies passed away on the same day." ...... "I didnt want to add more stress to anyone else's plate, so I delt with it without telling you."&lt;br /&gt;I thanked him for his honesty then chewed his left ear about doing it all by himself...... Kevin replied "Your mother would have done the same.... then moved to the right ear!"&lt;br /&gt;We had a great laugh and a sad cry together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a quick pic before I packed up and headed home.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rpx-OtQWmSI/AAAAAAAABEY/Qbsc6LurX-k/s1600-h/K%26J.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rpx-OtQWmSI/AAAAAAAABEY/Qbsc6LurX-k/s400/K%26J.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088080470153271586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin pass's his 'Ello's &amp; Love to All.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-8694709329270682117?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/8694709329270682117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=8694709329270682117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8694709329270682117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8694709329270682117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/07/visit-with-kevin-17th-july.html' title='Visit with Kevin 17th July'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rpx-OtQWmSI/AAAAAAAABEY/Qbsc6LurX-k/s72-c/K%26J.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1007194025050611079</id><published>2007-07-15T17:53:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-07-16T10:52:59.509+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookies Competition</title><content type='html'>Just to lighten the moods.....&lt;br /&gt;Here is my first effort ....&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RpnTNdQWmQI/AAAAAAAABEI/XO7y_ZpOETU/s1600-h/Cookies1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RpnTNdQWmQI/AAAAAAAABEI/XO7y_ZpOETU/s400/Cookies1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087329482236664066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now we just wait a while for the new tech of "Websmells" to go mainstream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jim &gt; did you get a pic of your cookies?&lt;br /&gt;Yes he did.... and here they are ....&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RprArtQWmRI/AAAAAAAABEQ/zoaSrazOMWw/s1600-h/Cookies2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RprArtQWmRI/AAAAAAAABEQ/zoaSrazOMWw/s400/Cookies2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087590586183489810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately and obviously, Judy and I have never had the pleasure of Grandma's cookies.... only the recipe that Judy posted from  (Aunt Anna Seeley 1925)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1007194025050611079?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1007194025050611079/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1007194025050611079' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1007194025050611079'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1007194025050611079'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/07/cookies-competition.html' title='Cookies Competition'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RpnTNdQWmQI/AAAAAAAABEI/XO7y_ZpOETU/s72-c/Cookies1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3163816522064627795</id><published>2007-07-04T07:52:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T18:01:55.602+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy Independence Day USA</title><content type='html'>Happy Independence Day USA&lt;br /&gt;Today is the day I continue one of Mothers favorite traditions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RorFdZtOMVI/AAAAAAAABD4/VM5C7vor5Ow/s1600-h/flag01.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RorFdZtOMVI/AAAAAAAABD4/VM5C7vor5Ow/s400/flag01.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083092238348464466" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is my great honour to now fly Mother's Flag, both to carry on Mothers tradition and to Honour Mothers Memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lcweb2.loc.gov/natlib/ihas/service/ssbanner/100010383/100010383.mp3"&gt;Star Spangled Banner&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.buckskin.org/Resources/Fun/Songs/Star%20Spangled%20Banner.mp3"&gt;Star Spangled Banner - Instrumental&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,&lt;br /&gt;W hat so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?&lt;br /&gt;Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,&lt;br /&gt;O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,&lt;br /&gt;Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.&lt;br /&gt;Oh! say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave,&lt;br /&gt;O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the shore, dimly seen thro' the mist of the deep,&lt;br /&gt;Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,&lt;br /&gt;What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep.&lt;br /&gt;As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,&lt;br /&gt;In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream&lt;br /&gt;'Tis the star-spangled banner. Oh! long may it wave&lt;br /&gt;O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And where is that band who so vauntingly swore&lt;br /&gt;That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion&lt;br /&gt;A home and a country should leave us no more?&lt;br /&gt;Their blood has washed out their foul footstep's pollution.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No refuge could save the hireling and slave&lt;br /&gt;From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave,&lt;br /&gt;And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave&lt;br /&gt;O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand&lt;br /&gt;Between their loved homes and the war's desolation,&lt;br /&gt;Blest with vict'ry and peace, may the Heav'n - rescued land&lt;br /&gt;Praise the Pow'r that hath made and preserved us a nation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then conquer we must, for our cause is just,&lt;br /&gt;And this be our motto--"In God is our trust."&lt;br /&gt;And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave&lt;br /&gt;O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Will Love You Always Mother&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3163816522064627795?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3163816522064627795/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3163816522064627795' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3163816522064627795'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3163816522064627795'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/07/happy-independence-day-usa.html' title='Happy Independence Day USA'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RorFdZtOMVI/AAAAAAAABD4/VM5C7vor5Ow/s72-c/flag01.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-9064420128928244042</id><published>2007-06-29T20:25:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T19:11:18.758+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Ive had a thought.... "Betty's Recipe Book"</title><content type='html'>A very "tasty" thought indeed...&lt;br /&gt;Totaly Suitable for "Fullers Pond"...&lt;br /&gt;But I have only one problem...&lt;br /&gt;It is Everyone Except Me that needs to contribute...&lt;br /&gt;Especialy the Ladies of the family...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because I dont have any of &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Mothers Recipe's !&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; -or-&lt;br /&gt;Other suitable &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;good old fashioned country fair!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ssoo i'll put in with a couple of requests if I may... both dish's have flavours of memory, that have come to me in the past few months or so that for one reason or another Mother rarely cooked here in Australia.....&lt;br /&gt;   A) Dumplings! ... I remember flavours of Mother making lovely soft &amp; light dumplings served with a gravy!&lt;br /&gt;   B) Backed Beans &amp; Ham! ... again, such strong memories of the ham flavour throughout the beans!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know Judy has a few and so should all of you ladies.... so get to work and organise 2 or 3 each then and add them to the comments section of this post. I will make a permanent link to this post called...&lt;br /&gt;"Betty's Recipe Book"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy has found the following recipes and scanned them for us all to share, THX Sis!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvAAlBvMI/AAAAAAAABEo/zSsw8pES79Q/s1600-h/IMG.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvAAlBvMI/AAAAAAAABEo/zSsw8pES79Q/s400/IMG.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090315524781489346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvPAlBvNI/AAAAAAAABEw/YoQ3Zj82VOw/s1600-h/IMG_0001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvPAlBvNI/AAAAAAAABEw/YoQ3Zj82VOw/s400/IMG_0001.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090315782479527122" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvYAlBvOI/AAAAAAAABE4/5E1YzkRVSyQ/s1600-h/IMG_0002.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvYAlBvOI/AAAAAAAABE4/5E1YzkRVSyQ/s400/IMG_0002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090315937098349794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvgglBvPI/AAAAAAAABFA/Jnny371YBfM/s1600-h/IMG_0003.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvgglBvPI/AAAAAAAABFA/Jnny371YBfM/s400/IMG_0003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316083127237874" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvoQlBvQI/AAAAAAAABFI/GmfH6-IGvXU/s1600-h/IMG_0004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvoQlBvQI/AAAAAAAABFI/GmfH6-IGvXU/s400/IMG_0004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316216271224066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvwQlBvRI/AAAAAAAABFQ/4hPoX1ixeFU/s1600-h/IMG_0005.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvwQlBvRI/AAAAAAAABFQ/4hPoX1ixeFU/s400/IMG_0005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316353710177554" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRv4wlBvSI/AAAAAAAABFY/zQMb2038JZU/s1600-h/IMG_0006.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRv4wlBvSI/AAAAAAAABFY/zQMb2038JZU/s400/IMG_0006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316499739065634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwAQlBvTI/AAAAAAAABFg/1z2byT27J7I/s1600-h/IMG_0007.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwAQlBvTI/AAAAAAAABFg/1z2byT27J7I/s400/IMG_0007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316628588084530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwPQlBvUI/AAAAAAAABFo/MPnYvSjImkI/s1600-h/IMG_0008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwPQlBvUI/AAAAAAAABFo/MPnYvSjImkI/s400/IMG_0008.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090316886286122306" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwWglBvVI/AAAAAAAABFw/BZCj9lsArDM/s1600-h/IMG_0009.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwWglBvVI/AAAAAAAABFw/BZCj9lsArDM/s400/IMG_0009.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090317010840173906" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwfQlBvWI/AAAAAAAABF4/9LcUJyI2Y28/s1600-h/IMG_0010.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwfQlBvWI/AAAAAAAABF4/9LcUJyI2Y28/s400/IMG_0010.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090317161164029282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwnwlBvXI/AAAAAAAABGA/y7w_cUxyikI/s1600-h/IMG_0011.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRwnwlBvXI/AAAAAAAABGA/y7w_cUxyikI/s400/IMG_0011.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5090317307192917362" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-9064420128928244042?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/9064420128928244042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=9064420128928244042' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9064420128928244042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9064420128928244042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/06/ive-had-thought.html' title='Ive had a thought.... &quot;Betty&apos;s Recipe Book&quot;'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RqRvAAlBvMI/AAAAAAAABEo/zSsw8pES79Q/s72-c/IMG.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1724710118639267138</id><published>2007-06-24T17:06:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-06-24T18:16:05.574+10:00</updated><title type='text'>A Mother of Change ?</title><content type='html'>The 20th century will be know as the century of change &gt; Huge Changes to mankind - all within a few very short decades of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Family life was &amp; is realy no different &gt; huge changes all within a few short decades.&lt;br /&gt;Our Grandparents saw the first of this "electricity thing" , Our Parents saw electricity implimented into everyday life and had dreams/visions/TV shows about "The Future" ... which, we today take as common place &amp; easily purchased over the counter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without pre-confronting Judy about this post I know to a major extent that I may be speaking for her as well.&lt;br /&gt;By me being the second youngest sibling, simultaniously being the eldest here in Australia I feel I have come to understand many of my elder siblings comments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Though we are 1 Family , we are many identities of time and place, each and everyone of us brought up in a different period of time and change... &lt;br /&gt;... Afterall, 8 children + 25yrs + all those times of grief PLUS the fact of "two sides to every story" .... must equal many times of change, adaptations and other decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quoting our eldest brother Jim .... "The Mother you know and the Mother I know are two different people" .... and only now I feel the unity of such a decisive statement..... this is simply a statement of change! ..... and I'm sure that we could all say it in our own write to any other sibling and still have the same meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quoting an email from Judy (without her permission :( ) .....&lt;br /&gt;"..... And harder yet, try as we like, we will never know the same Mum they know. I'm very glad I got the version of Mum that I did. I got the happier ( overall ) , more selfconfident, worldly, traveled, and life loving woman. I, out of all of Mum's children, had the great pleasure of watching my Mum grow with her grandkids.. I have more treasured family memories than the US family do I feel. My kids got to spend 20 odd years with Mum and the US family can't neccessarly say that"&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Throughout our live's here in Australia, we too have been whitness to lifes never ending cycle of change.&lt;br /&gt;I remember when we arrived, &lt;br /&gt;Mother's "1st-decade"..... Mother was the first to get us out and about seeing things.... but then when we got there Mother was always the first to put the brakes on, often before we even got started, being ever so causious after jumping the gate....&lt;br /&gt;Mother's "mid-decade" .... Mother tended to "float about" here and there.... clear ideas and goals.... and achieving them (ie: Visit USA twice in 4 years) ... but still seemed to be "a cup half full".&lt;br /&gt;Mother's "final-decade" .... began with the underlying though yet to surface desire "to be loved for just being herself".... As we all know it wasnt long before Mother met Kevin and this desire of "childish giggles" returned to them both.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we all can attest, whilst allways being "Mom/Betty/Elisabeth/Liz" people age the same way.... always changing &amp; adapting while retaining the original essence of "Mom".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday 14th June 2007 was 6 months to the day since Mothers passing.....&lt;br /&gt;Thursday 14th June 2007 was the first day it snowed at "Mothers Resting Valley" in 8 years ......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we all age and we all change...&lt;br /&gt;One thing shall never change...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Will Love You Always Mother&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1724710118639267138?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1724710118639267138/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1724710118639267138' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1724710118639267138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1724710118639267138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/06/mother-of-change.html' title='A Mother of Change ?'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-8815426168856113954</id><published>2007-06-02T20:44:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-06-08T22:53:21.444+10:00</updated><title type='text'>A story about the "Story Teller"</title><content type='html'>As you all are well aware mother loved to write story's. To get any of them published was beyond her wildest dreams in the early years. I wont go into detail of mothers complete works, i'll save that for a seperate post. This post is to focus only on one book..... "The Loo Book".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had relocated from Canbera (where Judy lives now) to Newcastle when I heard of mothers hospitalisation  for emphesiema, so to be close and help where I could. After what was an absolutely amazing recovery (other lifestyle choices played a huge part as well) mother soon started on her writing again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was doing study courses in business management, advertising, digital graphic arts and continuing my "fishy" studies.... but soon found that all this study doesnt pay the bills. After several long conversations with Sonya we decided to buy an existing printing business and to publish books as well..... We proceeded to move the entire printing business into our home as we had a huge workshop down stairs. 2 printing press's, foil stamping machine, huge paper guilotine, industrial binding machine and much more.&lt;br /&gt;Mother was totaly gobsmacked!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Within 6 months Mother and I had the basic layout of our first book. Soon we were proof reading, then the final proof... then we started printing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFStafLk3I/AAAAAAAABDg/jgue7ZJK_ms/s1600-h/LooBook2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFStafLk3I/AAAAAAAABDg/jgue7ZJK_ms/s400/LooBook2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071425595553583986" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We printed a total of 5000 books and I said to mother "Now we have to sell them!" ... mother chuckled.... "and I know how we are going to do that" I continued to say.... "Mother, get yourself prepared for a mini storm.... I have organised 4 local newspapers to interview you over the next 2 days!!". Mothers eyes popped and her jaw dropped..... "As well as that, the local TV station would like to do an interview". Unfortunately nothing came of what I was hoping to be good (free) advertising on the TV.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFTpafLk5I/AAAAAAAABDw/pvGwNuMmfVE/s1600-h/LooBook3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFTpafLk5I/AAAAAAAABDw/pvGwNuMmfVE/s400/LooBook3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071426626345735058" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The most memerable comment from mother was how honoured she was by one of the editions in a paper.... to be mentioned and refered to in the same article as Mark Twain.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFSWqfLk2I/AAAAAAAABDY/RTKMoUhYL58/s1600-h/LooBook1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFSWqfLk2I/AAAAAAAABDY/RTKMoUhYL58/s400/LooBook1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071425204711560034" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFTSafLk4I/AAAAAAAABDo/kynuUEav01c/s1600-h/LooBook4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFTSafLk4I/AAAAAAAABDo/kynuUEav01c/s400/LooBook4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5071426231208743810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For Christmas I thought it would be nice to make a momento for mother. So I made a photo frame of these paper adverts for her new book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vpvMFdbjf60"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vpvMFdbjf60" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="425" height="350"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This photo frame is now on the wall behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I still have copies of "The Loo Book" available for anyone who does not have a copy. &lt;a ref="mailto:jslh@iinet.net.au"&gt;Email Me&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;*NB* Any and All Copywrite Material ever produced by the late Elisabeth Ann Fuller Mobbs is enforceable and are held in trust by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Will Love You Always Mother&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-8815426168856113954?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/8815426168856113954/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=8815426168856113954' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8815426168856113954'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/8815426168856113954'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/06/story-about-story-teller.html' title='A story about the &quot;Story Teller&quot;'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RmFStafLk3I/AAAAAAAABDg/jgue7ZJK_ms/s72-c/LooBook2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-934605365218715261</id><published>2007-05-29T12:06:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-29T22:22:13.874+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Memorial Day - USA -</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RluK16fLk0I/AAAAAAAABDI/qRgJy6ckDv8/s1600-h/unkwn2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RluK16fLk0I/AAAAAAAABDI/qRgJy6ckDv8/s400/unkwn2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069798464373363522" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Thankyou to all the servicemen and women from every nation that have and continue to pay the ultimate price for freedom and peace.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Noteably here,&lt;br /&gt;Tracy Appleton - RIP - served WWII &amp; Korea   &gt;Note from Jim- Thanks to Mom for letting Dad do his part.&lt;br /&gt;and our eldest brothers, Dale with 20+ years service and to Jim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lilesnet.com/patriotic/music/gba%5B1%5D.wav"&gt;God Bless America&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lcweb2.loc.gov/natlib/ihas/service/ssbanner/100010381/100010381.mp3"&gt;Star-Spangled Banner&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://lcweb2.loc.gov/natlib/ihas/service/patriotic/100010412/100010412.mp3"&gt;America the Beautiful&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.usmemorialday.org/audio/bugltaps.mp3"&gt;Taps&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.dva.gov.au/commem/commac/studies/LastPost.mp3"&gt;The Last Post&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Australian military tradition, the Last Post is the bugle call that signifies the end of the day's activities. It is also sounded at military funerals and commemorative services such as ANZAC Day and Remembrance Day to indicate that the soldier has gone to his final rest. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankyou to Jim for bringing this to my attention.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-934605365218715261?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/934605365218715261/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=934605365218715261' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/934605365218715261'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/934605365218715261'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/memorial-day-usa.html' title='Memorial Day - USA -'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RluK16fLk0I/AAAAAAAABDI/qRgJy6ckDv8/s72-c/unkwn2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-6573412905763725733</id><published>2007-05-23T21:48:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-23T22:09:04.803+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Our BIGG Dog "Little"</title><content type='html'>Joe &amp;amp; and Judy mentioned our old dog "Little". Little was a St. Bernard that mother had brought home. The women that gave him to us had him and his brother. At times the two would get to play fighting under her kitchen table and would almost &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;nock&lt;/span&gt; it over. So, she &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;decided&lt;/span&gt; to get rid of one.&lt;br /&gt;I remember all of us laying on the living room floor using Little as a pillow to watch TV. During the winter, we would hook Little to our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;sleds&lt;/span&gt; and he would pull us around the yard. At the time we lived across the street from the Fire House, and every time the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;siren&lt;/span&gt; went off, Little would sit out in the yard and howl along with the noise. We would all watch and laugh at him. Mom would say the noise hurt him ears and that is why he howled.&lt;br /&gt;I remember the mess he would make every time he would take a drink from his water bowl. He would raise his head after getting a drink and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;drool&lt;/span&gt; would be hanging from his face. Better be far enough away, cause than came the shaking of the head and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;droll&lt;/span&gt; would go all over the place. If you stood to close, you would get covered with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;droll&lt;/span&gt;. I miss our &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;BIGG&lt;/span&gt; Dog "Little", he was a very gentle, loving dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-6573412905763725733?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/6573412905763725733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=6573412905763725733' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6573412905763725733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6573412905763725733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/our-bigg-dog-little.html' title='Our BIGG Dog &quot;Little&quot;'/><author><name>Anne</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4315066366488824050</id><published>2007-05-20T14:15:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-06-11T22:25:02.702+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Fond Memories</title><content type='html'>My name is Annette Appleton, I am the 5th of the 8 children mother had. I was the one known for bringing home stray animals. I remember one time while walking home from a friends house, I saw something rolling around along side of the street. Walking over to see what it was, I found a small baby kitten. As I was picking it up, I noticed to was bleeding from the head. With further investigation, I realized the poor thing looked as if it had been hit by a car. Being an animal lover as I am, I just knew I had to take this poor thing home and nurse it back to health.&lt;br /&gt;Upon arriving home with a wounded kitten, mother... in her own caring way, says to me, " now Natta, you know that poor kitty isn't going to last the nite." And I told her in return, " Oh, yes it will." And with that I made a bed out of a old shoe box, laid that box on my pillow and laid next to it all that nite. When the next morning came, I woke to find the poor kitten hadn't made it through the nite as mother had said. Walking into the kitchen that morning with shoebox in hand and tears running down my face, mother in her caring way just says, " Lets go and bury the poor kitty out back." Never a " told you so" or anything. That's one thing I truly remember about mother, she was always there to tell you the truth, and if you still had to find out for yourself, she was never one to say, " I told you so". But she was always there to talk if you wanted to. And in learning this from her, I found myself raising my own daughter and granddaughters the same way.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4315066366488824050?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4315066366488824050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4315066366488824050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4315066366488824050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4315066366488824050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/fond-memories.html' title='Fond Memories'/><author><name>Anne</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3518488950842448382</id><published>2007-05-14T20:02:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-14T20:19:22.434+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Judy's Mothers Day Visit to "The Valley"</title><content type='html'>Hi Family.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We are home after our trip to Echo Point to spend Mother's Day with Mum.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;It was 8.30am when we arrived at Echo Point. It was a quiet Sunday morning as far as the rest of the world was concerned.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I started down the steps leading to the various walks, I could hear the water seeping thought the earth and down the sides of the mountain. You can see the drips as it falls from the branches and roots growing from the ground above you.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;When you reach the first semi level area after the steps you look to your right and see this towering gentle flowing waterfall. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg0pCwDVAI/AAAAAAAABCE/Hh0A5tbveao/s1600-h/IMGP2081.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg0pCwDVAI/AAAAAAAABCE/Hh0A5tbveao/s400/IMGP2081.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064355660695819266" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; It gathers in small pools then flows past some stepping stones in front of you. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1EiwDVBI/AAAAAAAABCM/phtl_1QS5w8/s1600-h/IMGP2080.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1EiwDVBI/AAAAAAAABCM/phtl_1QS5w8/s400/IMGP2080.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064356133142221842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; After finding your footing on the stepping stones, you continue to follow a path alongside the slowly moving creek that you had just crossed.  You can hear the sounds of the different little waterfalls as you follow the pathway. All around you there is the sounds of birds calling. As you walk you can catch glimpse of the creek next to you. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1dywDVCI/AAAAAAAABCU/aIAb7DUYxrY/s1600-h/IMGP2077.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1dywDVCI/AAAAAAAABCU/aIAb7DUYxrY/s400/IMGP2077.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064356566933918754" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The pathway was in different degrees of dryness. Some points even covering the pathway with rivers of slowly moving water. The pathway leads to a set of steps that that guides you upwards. At the top of the steps the paths leads you off again to the left. Now we loose sight of the creek but the sound of waterfalls is ever present. The pathway turns a corner and it then divides into a path leading down a set of steps or continues on towards the right. At this point there are some beautiful fallen logs that if viewed in the right way, looks like a mossy green garden seat built for a queen. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1-ywDVDI/AAAAAAAABCc/duOMiN2mcsQ/s1600-h/IMGP2073.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg1-ywDVDI/AAAAAAAABCc/duOMiN2mcsQ/s400/IMGP2073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064357133869601842" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Here we go down the steps. As you reach the bottom step there is a bench on your right. It is here that Joe and I sat and cried as we said our good bye's to Mum. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg2ViwDVEI/AAAAAAAABCk/SR2qSQyqtrA/s1600-h/IMGP2056.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg2ViwDVEI/AAAAAAAABCk/SR2qSQyqtrA/s400/IMGP2056.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064357524711625794" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; There is a small fenced area about 5 metres long. It was here that Joe and I scattered Mum's ash's on our last painful trip. While standing there this morning, listening to the sounds around me, I knew that Mum was happy and at peace. She even had a special early morning planned to show off her beautiful vista for me.. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg2miwDVFI/AAAAAAAABCs/2nfllpPPKYM/s1600-h/IMGP2058.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg2miwDVFI/AAAAAAAABCs/2nfllpPPKYM/s400/IMGP2058.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064357816769401938" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  If you look over the edge of the cliff we are standing on you can see Mum's private bath and waterfall. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg28CwDVGI/AAAAAAAABC0/0lpyxEHSLbI/s1600-h/IMGP2068.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg28CwDVGI/AAAAAAAABC0/0lpyxEHSLbI/s400/IMGP2068.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5064358186136589410" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I had taken a couple of wild flowers with me and I had them sitting on Mum's bench for a while. When I felt the time was right, I pulled them apart and kissed each petal in turn for each of Mum's loved family. I then tossed them to the wind for Mum to catch and place where she thought they belonged.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I have a beautiful Mulberry candle that I light for Mum on all special occasions. As we can't have candles burning in the Mountains, I took some of the wax from Mum's Birthday Party and I rubbed it into the bench. So I was able to share it with her. ( I have the candle burning now beside me for Mother's Day. Just 1 of the ways I use to help keep Mum so very close to me now. )&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I had the chance to sit and watch as Mum showed off her beautiful morning. Watching the movement of the sun as it rose even further into the bright, clear sky. I watched in amazement as pairs of Black Cockatoo's cart wheeled across the sky on the early morning breezes. Cawing to each other across the vast distances. There was also the ever present butterflies. Flitting and floating just out of reach it seems. All the while soothed by the sounds of the waterfalls. Mum's presence was at home here. She has added her everlasting calmness to the quietness of the Valley. The lack of human sounds was magnified by the gentle concussion of natures choir.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Mum was smiling..&lt;br /&gt;The twinkle of Mum's eye was reflected in the sun drenched distant horizon. Both have this baby blue haze to them. Absolutly amazing..&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;After what felt like minutes, but in fact was a couple of hours, sitting and talking with Mum I had to go.&lt;br /&gt;I blew kiss's to the wind again for us all. I told Mum how much we loved her and missed her so.&lt;br /&gt;I told her that I would be back again, I couldn't say when, but I would be back.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I slowly made my way back to the top where we had parked the car. My loving husband was there to greet me with a shoulder to cry on and a much needed drink.&lt;br /&gt;As we drove away I looked at the clock and it was almost 11am.. It still feels like a few minutes...........&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I hope these photo's will help you in understanding just why this area was so special to Mum.&lt;br /&gt;I hope they also help you open up and share with those you hold dear.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thinking of you all on this day.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Love&lt;br /&gt;Jude&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3518488950842448382?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3518488950842448382/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3518488950842448382' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3518488950842448382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3518488950842448382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/judys-mothers-day-visit-to-valley.html' title='Judy&apos;s Mothers Day Visit to &quot;The Valley&quot;'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rkg0pCwDVAI/AAAAAAAABCE/Hh0A5tbveao/s72-c/IMGP2081.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-6857206527823379739</id><published>2007-05-13T14:04:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-13T14:56:05.603+10:00</updated><title type='text'>He  (copywrite Elisabeth Mobbs 2002)</title><content type='html'>The Prophet Isaiah was the first to tell&lt;br /&gt;of the birth of Him we love so well.&lt;br /&gt;In the land of Judah stands a village small-&lt;br /&gt;Humble Bethlehem, first to hear the call.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Across the land and edict from Rome&lt;br /&gt;sent Joseph to register his home.&lt;br /&gt;His expectant wife, Mary, on donkey's back&lt;br /&gt;followed him down the dusty track.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The town was full - no place to rest.&lt;br /&gt;Then God gave Joseph his second test.&lt;br /&gt;The innkeeper said, "No room have I stranger -&lt;br /&gt;all thats left is a straw-filled manger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Joseph sighed and looked at his wife,&lt;br /&gt;"Oh God," prayed he, "Why give me such strife?&lt;br /&gt;We can go no further." He to the innkeeper said,&lt;br /&gt;"T'ween cattle and donkey we'll make our bed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the hillside under a moon grown cold,&lt;br /&gt;Angelic choirs to the shepherds told;&lt;br /&gt;"Good news we bring, to all mandkind.&lt;br /&gt;Into Bethlehem go and the Christ child you'll find."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Straight away they went, God guiding their way.&lt;br /&gt;Empty handed they knelt by the Babe in the hay.&lt;br /&gt;From distant lands came wise men three,&lt;br /&gt;setting gifts before Him on bended knee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A puzzled Joseph slept not that night,&lt;br /&gt;after shepherds and kings had been in his sight.&lt;br /&gt;But a warning from God told him to flee -&lt;br /&gt;"Take the Babe and His mother to a far country."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without hesitation - without a doubt,&lt;br /&gt;Joseph left with his family, 'ere people came out.&lt;br /&gt;Towards Egypt-land their way they wended,&lt;br /&gt;Till Herod's reign was finally ended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in Nazareth the young lad grew,&lt;br /&gt;With Mary's love and Joseph's too.&lt;br /&gt;Then off to Jerusalem when His manhood reached,&lt;br /&gt;to talk with the Scribes, hear what they preached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Where have you been?" a tearfull Mary frowned,&lt;br /&gt;when on the homeward journey He was not found.&lt;br /&gt;"I must be about My Father's busines," the lad replied.&lt;br /&gt;"So soon, so soon!" she dried her tears and sighed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three short years He walked the country side.&lt;br /&gt;"Listen and learn while I still abide.&lt;br /&gt;The time is fast approaching then will come the day,&lt;br /&gt;when earthly man will plot to take my life away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Heed well the lessons which I teach,&lt;br /&gt;then go, two by two, yourselves to preach.&lt;br /&gt;Love one another as I have loved you.&lt;br /&gt;Share what you have and always speak true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the garden He prayed, trees shrouded in mist.&lt;br /&gt;His betrayal consummated when He was kissed.&lt;br /&gt;Neither Herod nor Pilate a fault could they spy,&lt;br /&gt;but yeilded to demands of - "Crucify!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky turned black, the earth did shake&lt;br /&gt;when down from the cross my Master pake;&lt;br /&gt;"Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do."&lt;br /&gt;But ignorant men laughed and said, "We do, too!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fourty hours the earth held its breath.&lt;br /&gt;For the jews, a day of rest was the Sabbath.&lt;br /&gt;Dawn on the first day of the week&lt;br /&gt;found women at the tomb, His body to seek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"He is not there - He is risen!" the angels said.&lt;br /&gt;Fear seized the women - away they fled.&lt;br /&gt;"He said he'd return," brave Peter stated.&lt;br /&gt;And they waited all day with breath a-baited.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Return He did, on a quiet evening,&lt;br /&gt;amid deep doubt and great rejoicing.&lt;br /&gt;"Feed my sheep - tend my lambs," His voice was full of love.&lt;br /&gt;Then He went to join His Father in Heaven above.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Guardian He left us - His Holy Spirit as Guide.&lt;br /&gt;A promise He made to be kept at our side,&lt;br /&gt;"Lo, I am with you always - even to the end of the age"&lt;br /&gt;Engrave this on your heart, dear friend, as you turn over each day's page.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-6857206527823379739?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/6857206527823379739/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=6857206527823379739' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6857206527823379739'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6857206527823379739'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/he-copywrite-elisabeth-mobbs-2002.html' title='He  (copywrite Elisabeth Mobbs 2002)'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-662626704846508986</id><published>2007-05-03T18:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-05-03T18:32:15.273+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Mother's Day Memories</title><content type='html'>With Mother's Day fast approaching I find my thoughts drawn to Mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many special things that Mum and I shared between us, one of those things being a Mother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when I was small and Mum would ever so &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;occasionally&lt;/span&gt; say something like ' You'll change your mind when 1 of your own kids does this or that.'  I would give Mum one of the strangest looks, like she had suddenly spoken in a foreign language. This always brought a knowing chuckle from Mum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mum, being the very special woman that she was, gave special thought to my very first Mother's Day gift. Just before Mother's Day 1985,we were out shopping and sat down for a coffee. We started remembering some of the Mothers Day's we had spent together. Mum being Mum, managed to swing the conversation to how being a mother changed EVERYTHING in your life. Mum impressed on me the importance of time. Time to love, Time to learn, Time to play, Time to teach, Time to share and Time to grow. Mum used the analogy of the slow moving &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;caterpillar&lt;/span&gt;. When the time is right it makes it's cocoon and spends the time it needs to grow and change into a beautiful butterfly. Upon finishing this sentence Mum presents me with a perfect butterfly broach. Mum then went on to say that now I had grown from the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;caterpillar&lt;/span&gt; into my own perfect butterfly. Needless to say butterfly's are very special to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now I find myself in the same position Mum was in. Buying that special 'something' for my daughter on her first Mother's Day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I do as good a job for &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;TJ&lt;/span&gt;, as my Mum did for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Loving you always  Missing you more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-662626704846508986?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/662626704846508986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=662626704846508986' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/662626704846508986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/662626704846508986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/05/mothers-day-memories.html' title='Mother&apos;s Day Memories'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4893573075747830023</id><published>2007-04-22T17:40:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-04-22T18:19:43.273+10:00</updated><title type='text'>A Portrate of Life</title><content type='html'>I remember over 10 years ago mother telling me this story.&lt;br /&gt;Mother was living alone at her home in Morrisett NSW.&lt;br /&gt;Always the "planner and the do'er" mother was always on the run, hardly stopping to gather it all in at times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother once told me that a close friend of hers was an artist and that "Anne" wanted to paint mothers portate. Mother didnt know what to make of it, her first comment being - "how long do I have to sit still for?". Well Anne sorted things out and managed to get a number of good photos of mother from different angles so mother only had to sit through a photo session. Many months went past before I heard anything else about the painting progress, until this 1 phone call mother mentioned it.... "Anne is almost finished but I dont like the way she has done my jaw/mouth" , I remember replying with words similar to "Artists take alot of latitude in there work mom!". Mother went on to say that Anne intended to submit the portrate in "The Archibald Prize" when it was finished... "The Archibald Prize" is the highest achievement for artists in Australia.&lt;br /&gt;I dont recall much other detail than mother telling me it was finished and she liked the final result, still mentioning her chin in the portrate...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway &gt; as ive been going through mothers box's of paperwork and stories I find photo's tucked under here, lost/hidden in an envelope there etc.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Find This Photo of Mother &amp; Her Portrate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RisW_ePtkxI/AAAAAAAAA0M/Q0nELBTC93s/s1600-h/portrate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RisW_ePtkxI/AAAAAAAAA0M/Q0nELBTC93s/s400/portrate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056160286360048402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.... the photo is dated 1998. I first found this photo in late January, I have never seen it before, nor have I seen the actual portrate. I knew the moment I saw this photo that I needed to find the artist and tell her of mothers passing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I spoke with Anne for the first time as I had no contact details for her, it took some time to track her down. Anne wish's to pass on her deepest condolences to our family. Anne offered the fact that she still has the portrate proudly displayed in her gallery/studio. Anne and I spoke for half and hour about mother and the portrate, telling me that it made it to the final 20 in "The Archibald Prize". I made the enquiry and Anne agreed to sell the portrate to me. I wont be able to collect it until later in the year and I would not think of having it shipped to me for fear of damage. I look forward in the future to posting a picture of "this photo next to the portrate".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We Will Love You Always Mother&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4893573075747830023?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4893573075747830023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4893573075747830023' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4893573075747830023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4893573075747830023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/04/portrate-of-life.html' title='A Portrate of Life'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RisW_ePtkxI/AAAAAAAAA0M/Q0nELBTC93s/s72-c/portrate.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3131828746085770990</id><published>2007-04-18T18:10:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-04-18T19:19:22.869+10:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am My Mothers Son.</title><content type='html'>These are my memories of some conversations with mother..... I very well will be wrong in the opinion of some as to the accuracy of said conversations. I never met my grandparents. I'm not speaking on mothers behalf - or on the behalf of any other family member!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I invite other family members to fill in where I have no idea.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember many times.....&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeth talking about her parents, grandparents and family in general. Its funny how family life changes as we all get older, its also funny how things will always stay the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother and I became best of friends over the past 10 years, no topic was off bounds.... even if the replies were only 1 sentance and of a "candy coated" nature. Mother always managed to tell the truth to me when ever I asked it of her, though she was always considerate of the "big picture" as not to tell me lies or lead me astray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dont get me wrong, mother and I had our "moments", as all relationships do. Difference of opinion was never grounds for the doors of comunication to be closed, if anything, over time... just the opposite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dont realy recall anything "ver-batum" that mother said about her grandparents but I do remember many things she said about her parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mothers father, Jonas (Grandpa Jo), was a quietly spoken person who's silent presence in the room alone, commanded great respect wherever they went. Jonas was drawn to fine detail, always in "quality control" mode ( in my opinion this shows in a chistmas pic, Jonas appears to be scrutinising the christmas tree decorations).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandmother Mable (Grandma Jo) was also a quiet lady until something was out of order, mother passed on memories of a stern mother who knew the difference between black and grey. Grandmother Mable was a solid homemaker but didnt feel quite as home camping as Granddad Jonas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through out my growing up were many hundreds of conversations about mothers children, grandchildren &amp; great grandchildren.... "Yes mother! ... I know I was only 5 years old when your 1st grandchild was born".... "Thats g/c number 3" ..... "Im going to be a Great Grand Mother" ..... "Now we have "Moira" thats g/g/c number 5.... or is that 4 ... " .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point to this post is that mother taught me patience and compassion and a sence of being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patience = The ability to question ones self with a solid sence of empathy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Compassion = The understanding that everybody has bad memories of some sort, its all to easy to focus on the bad.... the best &amp;amp; most simplistic of things seem easily forgotten or set aside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sence of being = The ability after questioning yourself, when you find you were wrong... to put my hand up and take responsability for such...... and by the same token, if I am not in the wrong... a sence of being never to be wavered from what I belive is correct... yet all at the same time, always retaining the ability to re-question myself with an open mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Will Love You Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I Am My Mothers Son.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3131828746085770990?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3131828746085770990/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3131828746085770990' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3131828746085770990'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3131828746085770990'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-am-my-mothers-son.html' title='I Am My Mothers Son.'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-2401967880423464381</id><published>2007-04-17T05:27:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-04-17T18:04:17.835+10:00</updated><title type='text'>You'r Not My Mom!!!!</title><content type='html'>The only beatings I remember were the ones I got from my big sister, Bobby. She use to chase me through the house and when she caught me she would wrestle me to the floor, put her pointed knees into the middle of back and beat me on the back of my head with her fists screaming at me at the top of her voice. I'd have bruises for days. In all honesty though, I deserved every beating I got. I was giving her the worst times in her worst of times and for that I would like to apologize to her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dale Paul&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-2401967880423464381?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/2401967880423464381/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=2401967880423464381' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2401967880423464381'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2401967880423464381'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/04/your-not-my-mom.html' title='You&apos;r Not My Mom!!!!'/><author><name>Dale Paul</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7646244648178567923</id><published>2007-04-15T12:45:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2007-04-15T12:49:48.609+10:00</updated><title type='text'>Memory from Dale. Elisabeth's Second oldest son.</title><content type='html'>Wait Till Your Father Gets Home&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember it was in the fall of 1957.  We were living on Uncle Harry’s Christmas tree farm up in the valley.   Dad had put up the tree trimming and cutting tools for the winter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a fascination for just how large of a branch the big loppers could cut through so I went to the shed and found a pair of long heavy loppers.  They were an old pair, heavy steel with wooden handles.   I started with small branches that had fallen from the big maple tree in the front yard and worked my way up to the front of the house, finding bigger branches as I went.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s when I saw it, the ultimate object to be tested.  Now mom was always very forgiving and patient with us kids, but on the other hand dad wasn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed the loppers and spread the jaws apart, then set them on the ground.  Being only five years old I didn't have the strength to control them while holding on at the wooden handles so I grabbed near the jaws and put them around my intended subject.  At this point I could grab the wooden handles and pull the jaws shut, so I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Now mom, she always kept a close eye on us younger siblings and had this ability to suddenly appear from out of now where just as we were about to do some thing that could result in bodily harm to our selves.  Through all the sparks I saw her standing there not knowing weather it was safer to grab the loppers or me first. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time mom made her decision I had already dropped them the ground and the sparks had subsided.  I had cut the electrical wire that came from the transformer on the telephone pole to our house and down to the fuse box in the cellar.  Mom swept me up in her arms and did a quick check of my senses, then cradled me giving thanks that she hadn't lost another child.  The only thing that prevented me from being electrocuted were the wooden handles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom never did tell any of us kids “Wait till your father gets home!”  But I knew the thought must have been on her mind and I did see stars twice that day, the moment those cutters touched the wires and then again when my father got home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love -n- hugs&lt;br /&gt;Dale -N- Nette&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7646244648178567923?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7646244648178567923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7646244648178567923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7646244648178567923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7646244648178567923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/04/memory-from-dale-elisabeths-second.html' title='Memory from Dale. Elisabeth&apos;s Second oldest son.'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7970411084070948401</id><published>2007-03-13T21:09:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-03-13T23:10:47.100+11:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tribute to Betty from her Loving Husband Kevin</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Note from Joe:&lt;/span&gt; Kevin has asked me to publish this following Tribute To Elisabeth. I have endevoured to copy his notes word for word.... though I have added a couple of comments of my own &gt; They appear between the brackets (here)... I also have added the pics.&lt;br /&gt;*************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met Elisabeth, who most of you know as Betty, because of her desire to teach writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In a way I had been introduced previously. A lady playing croquet at Toronto had spent a couple of hours on the court, with continuing enthusiastic comments about her Order of The Eastern Star Choir - particularly its dynamic leader, the same Elisabeth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a widower, following my first wife's long series of illnesses. It soon became apparent that Elisabeth and I were, in some ways, kindred spirits. We were both lonely, we had more life to live. We enjoyed travel. We visited each others homes and soon resolved to walk towards the sunset together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We married in November 2000 and settled in my home of over 40 years in Gloucester, New South Wales.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeth soon became as one with the group I had known for many years. She maintained her OES connections with both Great Lakes and West Lakes Chapters. She was invited to speak about American Indians at PROBUS. Later she took a turn at President of PROBUS. We attended the Uniting Church in Gloucester, but once a month Elisabeth was the Organist at the Presbyterian Church. She gave classes in Creative Writing and soon learned to play Croquet. Her computer was her means of staying in touch with her family and friends - especially those in the States. Of course, Elisabeth continued to be an enthusiastic choir member.&lt;br /&gt;We still found time to travel.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeth found Gloucesters climate oppressive. It was very hot in summer, to compensate it was even colder in winter! Her emphasima did not help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We began to look for homes in a Retirement Village. After some false starts we settled on a New Home at Greenbank Gardens Village, near Brisbane Queensland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Like elsewhere, Elisabeth soon settled. She met the neighbours and it was delightful to hear her play popular tunes on her beloved Roland Electric Piano. She turned our house into a home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We went on arranged bus tours to get to know our surroundings. We moved on to public buses and trains for the same purpose. We attended functions in the Village hall and visited Joe and Sonya at Tweed Heads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeth continued her teaching of Creative Writing to some grateful students localy. Elisabeth soon joined the local, Beauview Chapter 218 - Order of The Eastern Star.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued to travel, to Cairns in Far Northern Queensland (this trip has a storey in it self!) , to Canberra to visit Judy, to Fiji, to Perth in Western Australia......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some eighteen months before Elisabeths passing she was diagnosed with Breast Cancer and underwent a mastectomy and recovered with flying colours. Yet her general health was declining. I recall telling others that I was having better luck healthwise than was she. Even still, it was a tremendous shock to learn in August 2006 that Elisabeth had advanced and incurable Pancreatic Cancer. The best of care eased her suffering but Elisabeth passed away peacefully on December 14, 2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaTxwRaFzI/AAAAAAAAAKM/eTICednSSSY/s1600-h/flowers2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaTxwRaFzI/AAAAAAAAAKM/eTICednSSSY/s400/flowers2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041379315868636978" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elisabeths daughter Barbara, visiting from overseas, her son Joe and I was present during the Dr's diagnosis and prognosis. Her family gave all possible loving care and support. Dorie flew out from the States for a week and visited daily, Judy and her son Brett flew up from Canberra for 2 weeks. Joe was the bastion of support, traveling up from Tweed Heads most days and communicating with the family to keep then informed daily.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two inspiring Thanksgiving Services were held for her wonderful contibutions to life. One here in Brisbane, Qld at Browns Plains Presbyterian Church and the other at the Goucester Uniting Church in NSW. Elisabeths ashes were divided into Two earns. One is buried in Gloucester and, as specially requested, Joe and Judy scattered the contents of the other in the beautiful Jamison Valley, Katoomba NSW. (&lt;a href="http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/mothers-final-bushwalk.html"&gt;Mothers Final Bushwalk&lt;/a&gt;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am ever so grateful to have shared a few years of Elisabeth's dynamic company!&lt;br /&gt;I am amoungst the many people who will always dearly miss her and love her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kevin Mobbs&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaNhgRaFyI/AAAAAAAAAKE/wu8SQNZNH4E/s1600-h/memserv4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaNhgRaFyI/AAAAAAAAAKE/wu8SQNZNH4E/s400/memserv4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041372439625996066" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaUEgRaF0I/AAAAAAAAAKU/YsH00z9kxRs/s1600-h/memserv6.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaUEgRaF0I/AAAAAAAAAKU/YsH00z9kxRs/s400/memserv6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041379637991184194" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*************************************************************************************&lt;br /&gt;God has not promised&lt;br /&gt;skies always blue,&lt;br /&gt;flower-strewn pathways&lt;br /&gt;all our lives through,&lt;br /&gt;God has not promised&lt;br /&gt;sun without rain,&lt;br /&gt;joy without sorrow,&lt;br /&gt;peace without pain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But God has promised&lt;br /&gt;strength for the day,&lt;br /&gt;rest for the labour,&lt;br /&gt;light for the way,&lt;br /&gt;Grace for the trials,&lt;br /&gt;help from above,&lt;br /&gt;unfailing sympathy,&lt;br /&gt;undying love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Annie Johnson Flint *&lt;br /&gt;************************************************************************************&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7970411084070948401?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7970411084070948401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7970411084070948401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7970411084070948401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7970411084070948401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/03/tribute-to-betty-from-her-ever-loving.html' title='A Tribute to Betty from her Loving Husband Kevin'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RfaTxwRaFzI/AAAAAAAAAKM/eTICednSSSY/s72-c/flowers2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-7644244496621129037</id><published>2007-03-04T04:16:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-03-04T04:23:40.404+11:00</updated><title type='text'>END-TABLE!!!!.... crash!</title><content type='html'>I remember when I was about 4 years old [31 years ago...(ouch)] chasing Jude and Joe around inside the house......  We were told not to do this but.... we did.  And yes.... I went head first into the end-table…. Still have the scar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was bleeding a lot from the forehead… I remember my father taking me upstairs to the bathroom and putting a damp washcloth on my head.  My Nan came in and took over (of course).  I was OK until I saw that my Nan had a worried look on her face.   Then she said this word I’d never heard (used for people), “stitches”.  I don’t remember much after this…&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-7644244496621129037?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/7644244496621129037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=7644244496621129037' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7644244496621129037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/7644244496621129037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/03/end-table-crash.html' title='END-TABLE!!!!.... crash!'/><author><name>grandchilddavid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1147880112463385606</id><published>2007-03-02T21:30:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-03-02T23:12:07.409+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit to speak with Mum at Echo Point.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RegUaJQi3FI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/JSlnAxNigfs/s1600-h/Wedding1%2B23102000.bmp.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RegUaJQi3FI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/JSlnAxNigfs/s320/Wedding1%2B23102000.bmp.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5037298622608366674" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My loving husband is taking me to Echo Point for Mother's Day this year. He understands what a major loss loosing my Mum is to me, and he thinks spending Mother's Day with her there will help me come to better terms with her passing.&lt;br /&gt;I am looking forward to it but at the same time I know how hard it will be to visit there again. We will also be making plans for a family reunion at "The Valley" hopefully for the end of the year. But that has yet to be spoken of further in detail.&lt;br /&gt;This is a treasured photo of Mum, Joe and his wife Sonya and myself at Mum and Kevin's wedding photo sitting at a local park in Gloucester.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you Mum..&lt;br /&gt;I miss you everyday..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1147880112463385606?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1147880112463385606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1147880112463385606' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1147880112463385606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1147880112463385606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/03/visit-to-speak-with-mum-at-echo-point.html' title='Visit to speak with Mum at Echo Point.'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RegUaJQi3FI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/JSlnAxNigfs/s72-c/Wedding1%2B23102000.bmp.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1381958747319093251</id><published>2007-02-26T18:47:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-03-01T23:13:15.216+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The Oldest Photo of any Fuller ....</title><content type='html'>OMG!!!&lt;br /&gt;Ive Found It!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReKRLI8I0RI/AAAAAAAAAIk/khhPP5aEsmo/s1600-h/J%26CFuller.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReKRLI8I0RI/AAAAAAAAAIk/khhPP5aEsmo/s400/J%26CFuller.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035746953917944082" /&gt;"The Original Rotogravure of Jonas and Clarissa Fuller dated 1846"&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jonas was born in 1792- Monkton VT and is burried in Bolles Cemetary, Susquehanna County PA - near Laceyville PA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Edit Added 27/2/07 - Email from Jim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Joe&lt;br /&gt;I remember it now, Mom has shown it to me many times.  Now I have faces to go with those headstone pictures.&lt;br /&gt;The Cemetery is The Bolles-Fuller Cemetery, so the big steel State Marker Sign states, in Susquehanna County. An Indian name. The town it's near, well, about 15 miles from, is Laceyville, Named after the Lacey Familey.......... Mom used to know Doctor Lacey. Lacey, Wick and Fuller are the major names there.  Laceyville is on Rt. 6, if you blink your eyes when going on the road, then you will miss Laceyville, a rather small place. There is a feed store for cattle, Wickes Lumber and a small food store along with a few small shops, post office and 2 gas stations.&lt;br /&gt;Jim and Jane&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Edit Added 28/2/07 - Email from Jim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The United States Census for 1850 Susquehanna County in the state of Pennsylvania Auburn Township&lt;br /&gt;Name              Sex   Age     Born&lt;br /&gt;FULLER  Jonas     m     57      VT        &lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Clarissa  f     42      VT        &lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Harriet   f     11      PA  &lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Charles   m     10      PA&lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Josiah    m     8       PA    &lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Clarissa  f     12-Sep  PA  &lt;br /&gt;Josiah was Mom's Great Grandfather.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReKS5I8I0SI/AAAAAAAAAIs/3cvPAyVjQWE/s1600-h/frame.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReKS5I8I0SI/AAAAAAAAAIs/3cvPAyVjQWE/s320/frame.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5035748843703554338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The photo is amazing to look at.... it is inlaid in a pressed metal frame... the photo itself is a "Rotogravure" , one of the very first publicly availably printing types of photos. Its printed on a waffer thin sheet of metal with gold embossing around it and has a "laminating" type of coating over it......&lt;br /&gt;This very unique and historical family item has been bequethed by mother to our oldest brother Jim.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Edit Added 1/3/07&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReaneI8I0VI/AAAAAAAAAJU/A69OUSHr4ak/s1600-h/J%26CFullerHeadstones.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReaneI8I0VI/AAAAAAAAAJU/A69OUSHr4ak/s320/J%26CFullerHeadstones.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5036897369498112338" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;FULLER, Jonas &gt; died 26 January 1882; 89 years 9 months 26 days&lt;br /&gt;GAR 1861-65; sign by the grave, the gravestone records Soldier of 1812&lt;br /&gt;FULLER, Clarissa Main &gt; died 3 October 1883; 76 years 10 months 27 days&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1381958747319093251?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1381958747319093251/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1381958747319093251' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1381958747319093251'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1381958747319093251'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/oldest-photo-of-any-fuller.html' title='The Oldest Photo of any Fuller ....'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/ReKRLI8I0RI/AAAAAAAAAIk/khhPP5aEsmo/s72-c/J%26CFuller.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-2370617847961361119</id><published>2007-02-20T11:18:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T19:14:38.148+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Family Holidays</title><content type='html'>I thought I would post this pic here as well as the photo album ... hoping that seeing this photo would inspire my older brothers and sisters to add some memories ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdpA2x1XRbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/w0Ic5gary4o/s1600-h/Picture+063.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdpA2x1XRbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/w0Ic5gary4o/s400/Picture+063.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033406843374224818" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandfather Jonas / Grandmother Mable / Mother Elisabeth &amp;amp; Aunt Sylvia&lt;br /&gt;"Taken at Taughannock Falls State Park NY 1939"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-2370617847961361119?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/2370617847961361119/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=2370617847961361119' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2370617847961361119'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2370617847961361119'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/family-holidays.html' title='Family Holidays'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdpA2x1XRbI/AAAAAAAAAIM/w0Ic5gary4o/s72-c/Picture+063.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-9054905954527512209</id><published>2007-02-20T02:17:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T21:43:39.900+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Legend of The Three Sisters</title><content type='html'>Long ago in the Blue Mountains there lived three little Aboriginal sisters. They were Meenhi, Wimlah and Gunnedoo, whose Witch Doctor father was called Tyawan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Only one creature was feared by all – the Bunyip who lived in a deep hole. When Tyawan had to pass the hole, he would leave his daughters safely on the cliff behind a rocky wall. One day, waving goodbye to his daughters, he descended the cliff steps. On top of the cliff a big centipede suddenly appeared and frightened Meehni, who threw a stone at it. The stone rolled over the cliff and crashed into the valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Birds, animals and fairies stopped still as the rocks behind the three sisters split open, leaving them on a thin ledge.&lt;br /&gt;The Three Sisters&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The angry Bunyip emerged to see the terrified sisters. In the valley, Tyawan saw the Bunyip close to his daughters, so he pointed his magic bone at the girls and turned them to stone. The Bunyip then chased Tyawan, who found himself trapped, so he changed himself into a Lyre Bird. Everyone was safe, but Tyawan had dropped his magic bone. After the Bunyip had gone, Tyawan searched and searched for his bone – and he is still searching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdnHKx1XRaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pJGWFnYKJJM/s1600-h/mother3sisters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdnHKx1XRaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pJGWFnYKJJM/s320/mother3sisters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5033273046553019810" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Three Sisters stand silently watching him from their ledge, hoping he will find the bone to turn them back to Aboriginal girls.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you look at the Three Sisters, you can hear Tyawan – the Lyre Bird – calling his daughters as his search for the lost bone continues.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.bluemts.com.au/NPB/3sisters.htm"&gt;Some Nice Pictures Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.upfromaustralia.com/thresisjamva.html"&gt;Fabulous Moving Panarama Here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-9054905954527512209?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/9054905954527512209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=9054905954527512209' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9054905954527512209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/9054905954527512209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/legend-of-three-sisters.html' title='Legend of The Three Sisters'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RdnHKx1XRaI/AAAAAAAAAIA/pJGWFnYKJJM/s72-c/mother3sisters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-2382552053292222064</id><published>2007-02-12T14:03:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-11T00:00:16.801+11:00</updated><title type='text'>A sign from Mum ?</title><content type='html'>We have been having a few storms over the last few days. Nice cool to warm days and thunder and rain in the afternoons and evenings. Mum always loved thunder and lightening. When I was a small child Mum used to say " Judy my girl, Don't be scared. It's only GOD and the ANGLES bowling. "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well we were driving in the car over the weekend and I was staring out the window thinking of Mum.  (All this thunder and lightening have kept Mum even closer in my thoughts.) Off in the distance I started to hear thunder. As I always do I said " I love you Mum ". And just as I finished saying it a massive bolt of lightening hit the tree in the padock we were driving past. It was like Mum answered me by asking GOD to show me a lightening strike up close.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know this is an eveyday occurance, but it's something I have never before seen. Like everyone else I have seen lightening strikes on TV but never have I seen it so close in real life. You could say it was just good timing and luck...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I like to think it was A Sign From Mum.. &lt;br /&gt;Saying to keep our chins up and smile...&lt;br /&gt;She's watching over us..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am finding it very difficult to find my balance without you Mum.&lt;br /&gt;But I will try to keep my chin up and smile for you..&lt;br /&gt;I love you and miss you terribly Mum.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-2382552053292222064?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/2382552053292222064/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=2382552053292222064' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2382552053292222064'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2382552053292222064'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/sign-from-mum.html' title='A sign from Mum ?'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-2787823588803501128</id><published>2007-02-10T21:50:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T23:35:46.110+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Reflections</title><content type='html'>I was re-reading some emails i've sent over the months and this one brought tears to my eyes, composed and sent 6 hours before mothers passing ...... I could feel our mothers last strengths helping me write this to everybody...... Ill now do as I said then ..... Continue to Share It!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cc: 13/12/2006 - Family Email -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today was a day of contrast and reflection.... refelections of yesterday and yesteryear....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet again I find myself driving home in a numb &amp; mindless state, remembering that there was a car on fire on the highway, a huge traffic jam.... then arriving home 10 mins later... (was actually 1hr45mins)....&lt;br /&gt;Get inside and Sonya has poored me a nice stiff whisky and greets me with a warm hug... I now find myself doing todays email....&lt;br /&gt;Only now in the past 60 mins of being home do I see the real thoughts ive had throughout the day (inc yesterday)....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our ever proud Matriarc in laying bed with her husband at her side (yesterday his son as well).... and 1 of her sons at the other...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a contrast of lives and crossing of loves, what a reflection of history and pronounced marks of respect.... each and every one different in its starting culture....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The respect of Kevins family with the "Stiff Upper Lip" British culture brings with it the Regality of our Matriarc.... the treatment Our Princess has always deserved! .....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;aaannd then you have me! ..... in my way.... respecting our mother in the manner we were all taught....&lt;br /&gt;As Sad A Time As This Is ..... this is mothers encore! .... soaking up every bit of love that she has ever shared with any and everybody she has ever come in contact with....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother taught me that this is also a time to Rejoyce &amp; Reflect .....&lt;br /&gt;Reflect on the "Loves Of Elisabeth" .... for Elisabeth Loved So Much .... far to numerious to list in a 100 page email .... Mother Loves the memories of her childhood happy times, her growing up, her past family and history thereof... her adventure, challanging her fears, mother loved her writting, her skating, her OES &amp; her Faith.... most of all..... Mother Loved Her Children, Grand Children, Great Grand Children.... most of all..... Mother Loved Her Family &amp; Her Friends....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mother taught me to Rejoyce in the Love that Others Have Shared! ..... And Continue To Share It!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The contrast realy stood out today.... for I more than ever could not stop talking to mother, caressing her, touching and kissing her, wetting her brow and wrists, dribbling drops of juice from a straw onto her tounge...... passing on every email (all 18+ of them... SRZ... I didnt print any out... I did them from memory after reading them here at home.....im possative ive missed NONE!) ..... I could not stop telling her of the Love returning to her in Every Email!! ..... I could not stop re-assuring her that my tears were only on the outside as on the inside I could see all the rest of the family whom have waited 80yrs to meet Elisabeth Fuller in person..... that mother will soon have the chance to play with Carol Maree and open Christmas presents with the 1 child she has not, go shooting with her dad again ..... I could not stop reassuring her that Our Lord knows exactly what her favorite foods are and that he will not overcook a thing and.... he guarentees mother a chair next to Jesus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For as much as I am me and I show it.... I could not help but have a conciousness that Kevin was having the same reflections.... though from the other side of the mirror...... Reflecting on his steadfastness at mothers side "come all" ! ...... his son also reflecting their family culture..... ever so much Love and Re-assurance, through the eyes of their upbringing and culture.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can very much admire this trait, very dignified and honourable.... Very Regal !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mothers adventures and journeys, but only here on earth, have turned the corner of her last path.... step by step without movement the Gates of Heaven become near..... only Mother and Our Lord knows how bright The Gate's Glow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc2mFR1XRUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/RytQHN5rKdU/s1600-h/sunset.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc2mFR1XRUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/RytQHN5rKdU/s320/sunset.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029858968459494722" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May we all pray for the Peace, Tranquility and Strength for Mother during these... her last steps and breaths of human live.... before she forever flys with the angels and dines with Our Lord.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-2787823588803501128?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/2787823588803501128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=2787823588803501128' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2787823588803501128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/2787823588803501128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/reflections.html' title='Reflections'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc2mFR1XRUI/AAAAAAAAAGs/RytQHN5rKdU/s72-c/sunset.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-6702979990305840156</id><published>2007-02-10T17:35:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-10T19:04:31.718+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Magnetic Attraction</title><content type='html'>We were settled in the western suburbs and had already done a few train trips into the "Big Smoke" of Sydney and seen the harbour. It wasnt long after we arrived in Australia when mothers instinct to roam the bush started to kick in again. Now with having a car mother started to look further afield and found this place called "The 3 Sisters"... with a cute sounding village out in the mountains named Katoomba.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a small amount of research (mother's speciality) mother had concluded it would be a nice days return trip for a BBQ in the mountains to see who the 3 sisters are! The 3 Sisters are in Jamison Valley... part of the "Blue Mountains", a small (by comparison) mountain chain that runs the entire east coast of Australia, North &lt;&gt; South.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was during one of these early visits that mother "knew" that this was the place she truly felt at home... and the place she wanted to call her final home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As at this stage I havnt found any pics of very early visits..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc1q3R1XRNI/AAAAAAAAAFU/f2GDQgtmJdA/s1600-h/mother3sisters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc1q3R1XRNI/AAAAAAAAAFU/f2GDQgtmJdA/s200/mother3sisters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029793856755287250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This pic was taken in 1996, mother lived alone in Morriset and asked if I would drive her out again to visit the mountains.&lt;br /&gt;Instead of the now "Old Fashion" BBQ, mother and I stopped in Katoomba and had a fabulous lunch of "Reef &amp; Beef" ... (steak/prawns/calimari &amp; a nice sauce).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After lunch we went for a walk throught the tracks, we managed to get ourselves 50% of the way down to the bottom of the valley where there is this beautifull water fall and still deep pool. We sat there for ages chatting about everything as we always did.... mother contemplating her future before wonderfull Kevin came along, the rest as they say, is history ... except for 1 other note worthy mention....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After mother moved into Kevins house in Gloucester, when we would visit eachother, mother would allways say what fond memories she has of visits to Jamison Valley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About 6 months after Mother &amp; Kevin married I told them of my plans to move to Northern New South Wales to build and open an Aquarium shop. Mother asked if I could find the time to make another trip to "The Valley".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc11yB1XRPI/AAAAAAAAAF0/BJgJ81cXfws/s1600-h/3sis.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc11yB1XRPI/AAAAAAAAAF0/BJgJ81cXfws/s400/3sis.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5029805861188879602" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;March 2001 would be her last visit to "The Valley" before  &lt;a href="http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/mothers-final-bushwalk.html"&gt;Mothers Final Bushwalk&lt;/a&gt; on 29/12/2006.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss you so terribly mother....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-6702979990305840156?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/6702979990305840156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=6702979990305840156' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6702979990305840156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6702979990305840156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/magnetic-attraction.html' title='Magnetic Attraction'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rc1q3R1XRNI/AAAAAAAAAFU/f2GDQgtmJdA/s72-c/mother3sisters.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4091147636516817952</id><published>2007-02-07T18:35:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T22:34:41.723+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Its Time to Stand Up !</title><content type='html'>Mother, Judy and I arrived a couple of hours earlier, set up camp, sorted what we were going to have for dinner. Mother loved camping on the beach at "Blue Lagoon Caravan Park" just at the start of Xmas holidays 1979 .... this was her 4th or 5th visit, with and without us kids ..... mother loved camping fullstop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Judy was at the beach swimming and mother was about to go to the local shop in the caravan park. "Mom" I said, "Can I come for a walk to the shop with you?", "Sure" mother replied. "I neeeed to taaalk to yyou" I shyly stuttered... "About girls?" mother questioned "I was wondering if the time would come that you would ever ask me anything about girls?" .... "No!No!No! .... not about girls mom"..... "I need to tell you something you know already" I continued ... "Its time to stand up to you and Rodger and I thought that this would be the easiest start, as I know I cant.. and dont want to avoid the issue with him" ..... "What Issue!!?" mother exclaimed.....&lt;br /&gt;Nervously but confident sounding I said... "Smoking" .... "I know, that you know I smoke cigi's!" .... "Ive always bought mine with my own money, never daring to steel any of yours or his".... "And I dont want to sneek off anymore to have a cigi" ... "I want to quietly sit on the verandah and have a smoke when I want!"...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time we reached the shop mother was deadly silent, we walked in mother grabbing a loaf of bread at the door continuing to the fridge for some milk in silence. We reached the checkout and I had stratigicaly and purposefully placed myself in front of mother in the line. As the lady said "Next!" and mother was putting the shopping on the bench, I interupted with "I'll have a packet of Winfield Blue for me and a packet PallMall for my mother please!" ... both the checkout clerk and mother turned their heads towards me... "I will also have a lighter please" I added with a smile... the clerk looked at mother and mother shrugged her shoulders with some minor level of approval.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Silence followed us out the door where I stopped and opened my cigi's, took one out and lit it! "How do you feel" mother asked .... "Never been so nervous... ever!" I muttered .... then that very well known and extremely formidable index finger pointing and shaking began... "Well Joe, if you are going to smoke then you have to do it in front of us... No burning down the house! and if "his magesty" says No, then im left in a very tight spot I hope you understand" mother exclaimed as the nodding finger continued longer than the words.... "No smoking in the bedrooms or garage" "And if you litter them in the yard then you have me to answer too!" mother explained, trying to be "hard" on me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a very.... let us say "out there" teenager who knew no fear or no bounds. I made my own rules and suffered the consiquences, but that is another story not for these pages..... suffice to say, mother had her hands full with me, if I wasnt on one end of the rollercoaster I was on the other end or perhaps even on top ... either way rarely a happy medium.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the remainder of our holiday mother was never off my back, not for her personal preference, but trying to avoid the enevitable "nuclear blast" that would occur on our return home. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rcmp0MY_35I/AAAAAAAAAE8/0IdPi7CVL6Q/s1600-h/J%26JSmokeXmas79.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rcmp0MY_35I/AAAAAAAAAE8/0IdPi7CVL6Q/s200/J%26JSmokeXmas79.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5028737173080235922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So Joe, what are you going to do when we get home?", "Talk to him about it?", "You know he wont take kindly to it!" .... mother continued to pedanticaly voice the many angles as they swarmed her mind..... "Im going to do exactley as I did with you mother" .... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2 blocks from home I lit a cigi and as we drove into the driveway I waved to him with cigi in hand.... He walked up to me when we got out of the car... "You know I smoke so im going to smoke in front of you from now on"... "So dont think about your "10 cigar trick" .... it wont work" I sounded out with confidence.&lt;br /&gt;I think that was the first time mother walked with me side by side as we sidestepped "his magesty" gobsmacked as we unpacked our camping gear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4091147636516817952?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4091147636516817952/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4091147636516817952' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4091147636516817952'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4091147636516817952'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-time-to-stand-up.html' title='Its Time to Stand Up !'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/Rcmp0MY_35I/AAAAAAAAAE8/0IdPi7CVL6Q/s72-c/J%26JSmokeXmas79.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1415866346150440007</id><published>2007-02-07T12:56:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-07T12:59:22.058+11:00</updated><title type='text'>A Great Spark</title><content type='html'>The biggest thing that I remember about my Nan is her spark.  She will always tell you EXACTLY what she is thinking!  I need to be more like her in this way.  She had [still has I'm sure] a really strong will.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1415866346150440007?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1415866346150440007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1415866346150440007' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1415866346150440007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1415866346150440007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/great-spark.html' title='A Great Spark'/><author><name>grandchilddavid</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-6386085601139712716</id><published>2007-02-02T22:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-03T00:40:18.910+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Eldridge Park Lake</title><content type='html'>I recently found these tid bits of mothers......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Local rumor had it that Eldridge Lake was bottom-less. Well, my dad, Jonas Fuller decided to find out. During the winter of 1937/8 when the lake was frozen, he drew a map of the lake marking a line across it with 'X's' about 40 feet apart. Being a fisherman, he dug out a lead 'sinker' of one pound weight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he rolled about 200 feet of sturdy fish line to a hand line reel and tied the sinker to the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alright, Elisabeth," he said to me, "We're going fishing. Put on warm clothes and boots. Don't tell your mother or she'll claim I've gone nutty!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMhNMY_3zI/AAAAAAAAADc/-R8NkZwcjEM/s1600-h/willys_knight2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMhNMY_3zI/AAAAAAAAADc/-R8NkZwcjEM/s400/willys_knight2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026898119623696178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad and I were close for father and daughter as he'd raised me as a boy, and I enjoyed such things. He had an old Willys Knight car we put our things in and drove to Eldridge Park near the place called the outlet near the railroad line. Dad had included a six inch auger to drill through the 2 foot layer of ice, a 100 foot measuring tape and his map of the lake with the 'x's marked on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first hole was about 10 feet from shore and after Dad had dug the hole, he dropped in the sinker and waited for it to hit bottom, pulled it out, stretched the line on the ice, measured it and marked 10 feet on the first 'x'. We continued slowly across the lake stopping at each checkpoint. The fish line would freeze as soon as withdrawn so it was fast moving to get it laid out and measured so he could record it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We proceeded across the lake from "X' to 'X' moving toward the old Dance Hall on the knoll across the lake. The deepest point was just past middle towards the western side. The mark on the chart was just over 100 foot deep. I remember someone from the Elmira Star Gazette taking our picture, and it could well be tucked away in the Archives there -- if the 1972 flood didn't destroy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&lt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister, Sylvia and I grew up during WWII times. Dad was janitor at the Telephone Co. in Wisnor Park and didn't make the BIG war time money. So a $.05 ride on the Merry-go-round on a Sunday afternoon was the high light of our lives. We did enjoy the Glider Grounds on Harris HIll, spent summer at the Youth Camp up there. Exploring the Revolutionary War Battle Grounds at Willawanna finding many arrow heads. HUGE thanks to all for restoration of memories. Long may Eldridge Park re-live!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eldridgepark.us/"&gt;Eldridge Park Home Page&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eldridgepark.us/eldridge_guest.html"&gt;Memories Of Eldridge Park&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-6386085601139712716?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/6386085601139712716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=6386085601139712716' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6386085601139712716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6386085601139712716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/eldridge-park-lake.html' title='Eldridge Park Lake'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMhNMY_3zI/AAAAAAAAADc/-R8NkZwcjEM/s72-c/willys_knight2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-4521499709102581512</id><published>2007-02-02T22:25:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-04T14:16:51.409+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Brand Park</title><content type='html'>How come you missed the huge swimming pool at Brand Park - south side of Madison Ave Bridge???!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcVP_8Y_33I/AAAAAAAAAEU/aZBZzG8QDFs/s1600-h/brand_park1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcVP_8Y_33I/AAAAAAAAAEU/aZBZzG8QDFs/s320/brand_park1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5027512518990356338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My grandmother lived just across the park on Horner St and I'd 'beg' a deposit $.05 milk bottle, cash it in and could swim all day!!! I'd walk down from the old No.9 School, through the tunnel and on down. Can't quite recall the lady who was the LifeGuard for years n' years but she sure kept those older teeners in line!!! MRS.....?? Anyone recall?&lt;br /&gt;We could buy frozen candy bars at the tiny 'shop' in the park and chew on it for hours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad used to bring me down here evenings after a good rain. Best time to catch the largest 'nightwalkers' for fishing you ever saw!!&lt;br /&gt;When my youngest two kids and I were living on Lormore St, I'd bring them down, fasten them into baby swings and they'd almost get dizzy swinging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;LET'S HEAR IT FOR &lt;a href="http://www.shs58.org/brand_park.html"&gt;BRAND PARK!!!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-4521499709102581512?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/4521499709102581512/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=4521499709102581512' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4521499709102581512'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/4521499709102581512'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/brand-park.html' title='Brand Park'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcVP_8Y_33I/AAAAAAAAAEU/aZBZzG8QDFs/s72-c/brand_park1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1325623264736190787</id><published>2007-02-01T23:31:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-02T23:54:57.678+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Mothers Final Bushwalk</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMz78Y_31I/AAAAAAAAAD8/ItR5jufY5gM/s1600-h/below+mums+garden+2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMz78Y_31I/AAAAAAAAAD8/ItR5jufY5gM/s200/below+mums+garden+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026918713991880530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trail down to this more private cliff outlook was littered with wild flowers and orchids, exactly as mother remembered and wished.... yellows, whites, violets and reds....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMy88Y_30I/AAAAAAAAADw/5caMqbnkd5o/s1600-h/mums+second+visitor.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMy88Y_30I/AAAAAAAAADw/5caMqbnkd5o/s200/mums+second+visitor.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026917631660121922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcM0dMY_32I/AAAAAAAAAEI/WKfTHBI7Bsg/s1600-h/blue+mountains+4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcM0dMY_32I/AAAAAAAAAEI/WKfTHBI7Bsg/s200/blue+mountains+4.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026919285222530914" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... Well I couldnt help but notice a very emotional moment that I had captured.... as Judy said, the Parrots and Cockatoos just came out of every where.... as if they too, were here to greet mother into her final home..... the pics of this parrot are not super clear as they were taken with 60secs of scattering mothers ashes, and I have blown them up to zoom in on the parrot.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have layed the 2 pics on top of each other making 1 pic for you to  look at....&lt;br /&gt;In the top pic the parrot is definately looking at Judy and I.... in the lower pic the parrot is definately watching the slowly drifting, floating and falling ashes of mother and on that same breeze, silently and majesticly blended into the "Blue Haze of Eternity".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcHfsMY_3yI/AAAAAAAAADQ/vPvgdi93470/s1600-h/MothersHeaven2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcHfsMY_3yI/AAAAAAAAADQ/vPvgdi93470/s400/MothersHeaven2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5026544609455496994" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mothers final wish's are fullfilled. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1325623264736190787?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1325623264736190787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1325623264736190787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1325623264736190787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1325623264736190787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/02/mothers-final-bushwalk.html' title='Mothers Final Bushwalk'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_HGFco4A2GWY/RcMz78Y_31I/AAAAAAAAAD8/ItR5jufY5gM/s72-c/below+mums+garden+2.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-1514093160166518090</id><published>2007-01-31T20:49:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T21:19:22.052+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Lookout Nan's got the scissors</title><content type='html'>WHOOSH !!  Brett go's running through the house and out the back door.&lt;br /&gt;BANG !!  Goes the screen door.&lt;br /&gt;And following hot on his heels runs Mum. With a pair of scissors in her hand..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brett learned a hard lesson about Mum and scissors very early on in life. From an early age Mum was always giving the kids a hair cut. You remember the kind of cut I mean. The good old "Bowl Cut", put a bowl on the poor kid's head and cut around it. Mum was a real PRO at those..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About the age of 5 I was giving Brett a little more lei way with his hair cuts. He had decided that he wanted to grow a "Rat's Tail", a small piece of hair at the back of the neck that you let grow. The rest of the head is rather closely cut like a crew cut. Well Mum took a dislike to it and decided that she was going to cut it off. Mum was always picking up the scissors when she thought Brett was not looking or if she thought Brett was not aware of what she was doing. Something always gave her away though. Either a squeaky floorboard underfoot or Brett's sister yelling " Look out Nan's got the scissors !"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After about a year with the "Rat's Tail" Brett finally gave Mum the great satisfaction of cutting it off. I still have it in an old photo album.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Quite often when either of my kids or myself,  see one of the other of us with scissors, one of us yells " Lookout Nan's got the scissors".  And now with the birth of my first Granddaughter that saying will bear even more meaning to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you Mum and miss you terribly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-1514093160166518090?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/1514093160166518090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=1514093160166518090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1514093160166518090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/1514093160166518090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/01/lookout-nans-got-scissors.html' title='Lookout Nan&apos;s got the scissors'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-593856816860901877</id><published>2007-01-31T20:30:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-01-31T20:45:26.342+11:00</updated><title type='text'>She's got the hiccups</title><content type='html'>I remember when my daughter was born. Mum saw her first when she was 5 minutes old. As Mum approached the crib the hospital had &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj&lt;/span&gt; in, Mum said to me " &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;OH&lt;/span&gt; How cute, she's got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;hiccups&lt;/span&gt; ". I tell no lie, as my daughter and other family members will attest to, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj&lt;/span&gt; got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;hiccups&lt;/span&gt; each and every time she saw or spoke to Mum. In November 2006 we had an early family Christmas. It brought tears to my eyes when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj&lt;/span&gt; got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;hiccups&lt;/span&gt;. Even in Mum's sad state of health at the time, Mum gave me a knowing &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;nudge&lt;/span&gt; and wink in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj's&lt;/span&gt; direction. Mum knew and remember when &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj&lt;/span&gt; first got the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;hiccups&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" onclick="BLOG_clickHandler(this)"&gt;Tj&lt;/span&gt; has said to me that she always thinks of Mum when ever she gets the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12"&gt;hiccups&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you and miss you Mum..&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-593856816860901877?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/593856816860901877/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=593856816860901877' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/593856816860901877'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/593856816860901877'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/01/shes-got-hiccups.html' title='She&apos;s got the hiccups'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-6691376034680793291</id><published>2007-01-31T08:14:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-02-20T23:11:17.171+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Memories from Betty's Sister &gt; Sylvia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="moz-text-html" lang="x-western"&gt;      &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Dear Joe, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Would you please enter this into your  Blog for  Betty.  Thanks,  Aunt Sylvia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Some memories of Elisabeth, my sister, as I  remember them from growing up with her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;We used to go to dad's sister's farm near Gillette, PA alot. Uncle Lonnie and Aunt Iva always had a garden, so there was always a nice dinner for all of us. One time, we were going up the hill and the right front WHEEL came off of our Williys Knight and rolled down the hill! We shared the thrill when they got their electricity, their first phone, helped at haying season. All of the farmers around shared some of the equipment, and went to each others farms to help hay. The women would all help cook. They told us we they were serving woodchuck, but I think they were teasing us....not really sure tho. We got in trouble for gathering eggs that had been placed under special hens by Aunt Grace (she lived near Lacyville, where our dad's parents are buried) so she could have the chickens hatch some duck eggs. We got chased into the outside cellar entrance at Aunt Ellen's farm by a mean bore hog. We would play with the outside water pump so much they scolded us for wasting water. We would snuggle into thick down covers at night, as there was no heat in the upstairs. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;We went with our dad while he measured the depth of Eldridge Park Lake by cutting holes in the ice and dropping in a measured line and recording areas all around the lake. The newspaper ran an article on this. Dad taught a boys Sunday School class, and he would take us with him when he took the class to places of interest around the area. I remember going to a tannery, a glass milk bottleing plant, watching the circus unload from the train at dawn, seeing a preserved whale in one car and a mummy in another on a train that came to Elmira, watching them load the HUGE glass telescope made in Corning, NY onto a train to be delivered to California for the FIRST lens to study the sky. Dad stressed to us to remember this, as it was history being made. We went to the Elmira Reformatory on a few Sunday afternoons and watched the inmates perform wooden gun manuvers while marching. Annually we went to Woodlawn Cemetary and would stand on the running boards of dad's car with our arms full of flags and run from headstone to headstone to place them in metal containers on Memorial Day. We both took piano lessons, but Elisabeth really took to it. She would play and I would sing. We booked alot of church events and weddings. We were both very active in our church Youth Group. We didn't have any money for toys, but she could entertain herself just fine, as Elisabeth loved being outdoors. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I have been grateful for the computer which has  enabled she and I to re-touch these last few years. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I know Kevin and Judy and Joe have done all there  possibly was to do for her, and have stayed by her side to the  end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to write your own thoughts and memories to share with your local friends and newspapers, if they allow you to. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;I will miss her.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Love, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:Arial;font-size:130%;"  &gt;Aunt Sylvia&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;ul&gt;   &lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EDIT ADDED BY JOE 20/2/2007&lt;/span&gt; .... I'm sure ive found some pitures of the times Aunt Sylvia refers to. I will endevour to add some soon.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;/li&gt; &lt;/ul&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-6691376034680793291?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/6691376034680793291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=6691376034680793291' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6691376034680793291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/6691376034680793291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/01/memories-from-bettys-sister-sylvia.html' title='Memories from Betty&apos;s Sister &gt; Sylvia'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3759672811760803150</id><published>2007-01-30T19:53:00.000+11:00</published><updated>2007-01-30T22:47:35.908+11:00</updated><title type='text'>The Trophies, The Car Crash &amp; McDonalds</title><content type='html'>"Hurry up mom, we'll be late!" I stuttered, total engrosed with getting my uniform tidy and my tie nice and straight. To this day I dont know why as I took it off along with the jacket for the 45 minite car drive to the Conservitorium of Music on Sydney Harbour.&lt;br /&gt;"Here we go Joe, parking nice and close" .... "I hope you havnt forgotten your music" mother said with a smile knowing that they were in the trumpet case. We were greated at the front door by my bandmaster, a very cheary fellow who had all the time in the world for anybody who liked music regardless of their ability. "I hope you have "my" trumpet" Chris exclaimed, "That trumpet has won many championships in this building as well as being played in the Opera House" "You better take care of it!".&lt;br /&gt;Mother and Chris had struck a deal on the side some months ago as I only had use of "loan &amp;amp; return" trumpets before... during 1st stage resitals for the Australian Championships Chris came over to me and said "Here Joe, use my trumpet.... that the school trumpet is not able to keep a nice pitch". Mother came to pick me up at 9.30pm like she had done every tuesday and thursday at our local band hall.... "Joe?" mother said in a questioning tone of voice, "thats not the school trumpet, is it?" .... knowing full well that it wasnt, "No it's not" I replied, "Chris let me play it tonight and it is the most beautifull trumpet I have ever held!"... "So you like it?" "But do you like enough to want it?" mother asked, I said that this was a concert trumpet with the sweetest of tone and unfortunately would be far to expensive! Chris jumped in with huge chuckles "Well Joe, I told your mother if you were good enough to make it to the Australian Championship Finals that I would sell it to you for a very fair price, you have made the top 10 in Australia and the trumpet is yours!!!"&lt;br /&gt;Standing at the footsteps of the Conservitorium with mother and Chris I turned to them both and said "Chris, your trumpet will win another championship today" as we headed up the stairs. Reaching the top and going through the foyer we reached the main concert hall. The excitement was now overflowing, mother continualy repeating "Breath Joe, focus on your breathing... keep it deep inside with solid strong breaths, then when your standing in front of these 1000 fellow competitors, piers and judges... simply blow me a kiss take a deep breath and rip into it".&lt;br /&gt;I was the forth last person to perform in the Under 16's Class and last to perform in the Open Age Class.&lt;br /&gt;I played the same piece for both catagories "Etude de Condors"... I will never foget it. I was extremely anxious performing this piece in the Under 16's as it was rated the highest difficulty for the age bracket, I thought I played well but didnt think much else of it as there were 3 outstanding performers before me. 1 1/2 hours later came my turn in the Open Age bracket. By this time I was very at ease after watching everyone else, afterall I only put in for the "Opens" as Chris said he thought I would have a chance to better myself. So with all this running around in my mind I didnt feel any pressure at all... I did exactly as mother had told me, blew her a kiss - deep breath - then let it rip! When I had finished there was what seemed like 2 minites of silence then the whole conservitorium erupted, I could feel such a rush inside.... I knew I had hammered that piece to the wall.&lt;br /&gt;5pm came and time for the results. Mother was sweating and rocking, clutching at my palms and tapping my legs then we heard the announcement from the judges.. "Under 16's 3rd place goes to Joe" ........ woowhooo... yyaaawwhhoooooo .... then later "The Australian Open Age 2nd place goes to Joe" ........ mother was jumping more than I was, almost embarresing it was.... "im going to take you and your trophies to McDonalds for a celebration!" mother shouted with joy.&lt;br /&gt;We headed home and mother realy wanted to take me to Macca's for dinner so we did a little detour 5 miles from home heading to the local Macca's. We both were still jumping up and down, yelling to each other having a grand celebration when out of nowhere we were "T" boned by a small truck crashing into my passenger door and the rear door. Mother managed to drive the car off the intersection to the side of the road. We both got out very shaken and startled as like "what just happened then?" only to see the rear passenger door had been crushed in and had destroyed my trophies... "It doesnt matter" mother nervously said, " We are still going to Macca's its only 1 block away and we are going to celebrate your great achievement."&lt;br /&gt;The police, towtrucks and ambulance arrived within minites. The police did the paperwork thing and booked the driver of the small truck, the paramedics looked us all over and gave the all clear, the towtruck drivers had a mini fight over who get to tow the truck away as the police and mother said our car was drivable as long as it was a 1 way trip home. Mother explained the situation to the police and they escorted us to Macca's where we shared bigmacks with the police officers before they followed us the remaining 3 miles home.&lt;br /&gt;I went on to play a trumpet solo on that very same trumpet at The Sydney Opera House in 1980 for Queen Elizabeth II during her visit here. Mother in the crowd still jumping and cheering.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3759672811760803150?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3759672811760803150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3759672811760803150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3759672811760803150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3759672811760803150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/01/trophies-car-crash-mcdonalds.html' title='The Trophies, The Car Crash &amp; McDonalds'/><author><name>Toga</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8565844001662064411.post-3182948503836497485</id><published>2007-01-29T20:10:00.001+11:00</published><updated>2007-01-29T20:43:41.531+11:00</updated><title type='text'>Hi I'm Judy. Elisabeth's youngest</title><content type='html'>Mum will be dearly missed by everyone who knew her. I will post some memories at a later date.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8565844001662064411-3182948503836497485?l=fullerspond.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/feeds/3182948503836497485/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8565844001662064411&amp;postID=3182948503836497485' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3182948503836497485'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8565844001662064411/posts/default/3182948503836497485'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://fullerspond.blogspot.com/2007/01/hi-im-judy-elisabeths-youngest.html' title='Hi I&apos;m Judy. Elisabeth&apos;s youngest'/><author><name>jubarra</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
