Goals Goals Goals

This will be one of a few posts I put up today. So you have been warned.
Its the last day of 2013. So there will be a lot announcements about people wanting to better themselves and that this year will be the year for people to improve themselves or do what they always wanted or make other self-oriented goals. I will admit, I will be on that bandwagon but not for the same reasons as other people.
I am a strong believer in writing things down. It creates a connection and – indirectly – puts it in stone. And when I say it, I mean anything you write down. Your brain remembers things better when more than just one process is involved.  When you write down your goals, you remember what words you wrote but you also remember the actual action of writing down those words down. Also, another benefit of writing your goal down is it makes it more real. It makes it more concrete. The left side of your brain will love this. It is now given structure and a deadline. The right brain may not be completely happy but it now has something to create. For me, I tent to write my goals down and then post them (to a blog or to a social media site).  It’s not for the attention but it to remind myself that once I post it, others will have seen it and in the back of my mind that makes me have to follow through with it.  Even though no one may have read it, it is out to the world and makes me feel that I achieve what I wrote.  Not everyone does this, but for me, it helps.
Keep in mind that when you go to write down your goal, there are a few things that you need to remember.  First off, make sure your goals are reasonable.  Make sure that the goal you want to achieve is something that is important to you.  Just as important, be specific.  Do not just put ‘run a mile’.  It’s too broad and almost sets you up for failure.  On top of that, know your limitations.  Do not put down “go skydiving” when you are scared of looking out a second story window. Be logical. If sometime in the future you want to skydive but you really can’t bring yourself to even look out a second story window maybe that will be your goal.  Maybe you will be able to look that window and maybe you will look out the third story window as well.  That brings me to my next point, you have to set (a realistic) deadline.  This will be when you want to get this done.  Again, be reasonable and understand that Rome wasn’t built in a day.
I could go on and on about goal writing but I will leave you with these little guidelines.

So, now that I have shared these few steps with you, I will post my year goals using the advice I just shared with you. Enjoy and stay tuned!  🙂 

Wednesday Writing Piece Part Six

Here is another installment of my writing pieces.  This is a definition essay.  I am defining that I’m not crazy, did you get that memo?   Enjoy!

I’m not Crazy!

I am not crazy. I am not someone who is running around without clothes on and screaming out the greatest song of the ‘70’s. I am not living in some sort of housing building and have to rock as I speak. I do not holler all night long for some dead relative who have been dead longer then I have been alive. I am not lithium or risperdal. I am not someone who listens to the voices in my head. I do not believe that the government is going after me because I am know too much. But I am not normal. I do not with my parents. I do not follow the normal news stories. I do not use proper grammar while I am speaking to my teachers or to my boss. I did not grow up with normal parents. Matter of fact, I did not even grow up with my parents most of the time. So, what am I? I am me, end of story.

Crazy is defined as mentally deranged; demented; insane; senseless; impractical; totally unsound. When you put it that way, I am crazy. I talk to myself, I don’t make the smart decisions in life, I am not practical, I waste my time and most of all, I am no where being sound. I don’t think the human body make that much sound, only the vocal cords make sound. I am not complete deranged, only when I go crazy. But aren’t I always crazy? By many standards I am crazy. But why? I do not understand. I babble, I do not wear dresses at fancy dress events and I babble at those events. I am a woman. I am a redhead. I am a young adult who really is confusing about why life must suck so much and I am wondering why the hell I was in such a rush to be at this stage?

I also know that I am not normal. I had a mother with bipolar disorder with borderline personality disorder. My father has paranoid schizophrenia. My grandfather (who I lived with) has aspergers. My grandmother really didn’t like children. My other grandparents where just as crazy. My other grandmother didn’t know how to handle or speak to child (she had three children) and my other grandfather let my read Stephen King and the Brothers Grimm as my first reading books. I could tell you stories about things I learned and things that I figured out early in life. You never disturb someone who is yelling about the government and is waving around a knife. You do not buck someone you just listened about baseball for four hours. You do not ask your mother about being fat while she is in the “evil mommy” mode. You learn that you are not as important as the television and the reruns. You learn that being a redhead is just another curse and that people will touch your hair all the time. But overall, you will learn that your life will give you great material for a sitcom and it is great to scare away nasty looking boys.

Again, I will repeat myself that I am not crazy. I am special. I am Steph. I am woman. I am a redhead. I am smart. I can be a smarty-pants! But I am not crazy. I am not crazy. Again, I am not crazy. I just know things that you don’t know. I dealt with things that you haven’t dealt with; I have funny stories that you don’t. And most of all I know I am not normal.

Wednesday Writing Piece part Five

Okay, here is part five.  Again, another one about zombies.  But this one is just a comparing the different zombies.  🙂  So enjoy! It’s short and sweet.

Differences with Zombies

Zombies, like humans, come with similar and different attributes. No two zombies are the same (just like not two humans are the same.) Zombies do not have the same attributes that humans have and vice versa. You cannot match zombies on how big they are or how hunger they are and you cannot lump humans together by how they burp or how often they blink. They have to be strong characteristics among the zombies.

All zombies are soulless walking beings. They do not have a mind of their own and they are often controlled by something else (there are different things that they can be controlled by but we will go over that later). Another thing that all zombies share is that they are slow moving creatures with an easily recognizable walk (with exceptions of course). No zombie can speak because they do not have that advance controls over the body. All the zombies are dead and often were once human. Most zombies are rotting walking creatures that reek to the point of vomiting. Zombies only have one goal – to spread. This is often misunderstood to be “feeding” but really all the zombies want to do is share what they have with others. One more attribute to all zombies is how they have to be killed. All zombies need their brains taken out and beaten to death. After the brain is destroyed, the body needs to be burned. All zombies need to be destroyed in this fashion.

Zombies have different origins then the average person. Some zombies can be from religious purposes and it is part of the Vodou belief, which is often referred to West African Vodun to differ it from Haitian Voodoo. The two are very similar but there are some differences. Both have a “priest” or some sort of controller that controls the person or the now zombie. In West Africa Vodun, the priest or the bokor controls the soul of the person through some spiritual way. In the Haitian Zombie, the priest or sorcerer control the zombie by way of some sort of potion. Some zombies are created by a powder called Tetrodotoxin from puffer fish that is kind like a blocker of the nerves from the brain to the rest of the body. Other zombies could be created from a virus or a mutated bacterium. They attack the brain and mess up the way the body talks to the rest of the body. Other zombies are caused because of some government testing gone wrong or some drug company’s new drug testing goes all wrong. Some zombies (especially from folklore) zombies are brought back to life because of some sort unmet physical need that was not met during the humans lifetime.

Zombie can be grouped together by different traits that can bring them together and can tear them apart. Most zombies are dangerous and you do not want to mess with and there really isn’t a ‘nice zombie’. Zombies also have different origins and can vary how you need to fight them. Overall, zombies aren’t completely scary if you understand the basics and can take a deep breath in.

Wednesday Writing Piece, Part Four

Here’s another addition to my Wednesday’s writing pieces; and it’s another one about Zombies.  I really like zombies.  This one is a process essay.  It might be a little gory for a select few people, but over all, it shouldn’t make anyone loose their lunch. Enjoy!
On a side note, it’s my mother’s birthday.  This should be fun.  Okay, now back to the writing! 
How to Kill a Zombie
Zombies are mindless beings that only have a goal of spreading whatever it has to other non-zombies. Zombies are not like humans. Killing a zombie deals with several other factors that the average person would not think about and wouldn’t know. A zombie does not die from a shoot to the chest or lost limb. There are no arteries to try to cut. There is only one way a zombie can be stopped and that is with its head taken off. 
The very first thing a person must do to be prepared to do is to actually kill something. The zombie may look like a family member or be a dear friend. The first thing you need to remember is that the zombie isn’t human anymore. All the lifetime memories it once had are gone. Your mother isn’t your mother anymore once she has the zombie virus got to her brain. Zombies do not pick and choose who it will attack (unless it’s another zombie.) Once this mind set is in place, the person can go on to the next step.
Once the mind is in the right place, you need to make sure that the distance between the zombie and the person. The closest someone can be to the zombie and still be safe is about and arm length away. The safest distance from a zombie is in a different zip code but it’s often hard to achieve that status. One side note to take notice of is how far you need to be with your weapons to do what you need them to do. Distance is an important factor but knowing when to fight or fly is even more important.
With every move you make like breathing, blinking, sleeping and other activities, burn calories. During a zombie outbreak, food is going to be rare. Burning tons of calories will not be the best bet if you do not have the food to back it up. Knowing the difference between to fight or to run is important. If the zombie is posing a large threat to you at that moment, you will need to fight. If the zombie has noticed you and you are at a distance, then you can run and do not need to fight. If you hear more one zombie, you can run. If you get surrounded by many zombies, you need to fight your way out and then you run. Once the flight or flight reaction has been figured out, if you need to fight, then you can fight.
Fighting a zombie is not like fighting your little brother. A zombie can only ‘die’ but removing the brain. This means you have a short period of time to achieve this. It is important to know different weapons that have different pros and cons. For example, gun are great for long distances but need to be reload or the machete is a great for multipurpose tool but for fight zombies it put one too close to a zombie. A zombie’s brain needs to be disconnected from the body. This could be a crushing the brain, cutting off the head, cracking the skull open and any other way of getting the head away from the body. The brain is where the virus or the controller is located. This is where the orders are being given and you need to cut that tie. The simplest way of cutting the communication is cutting the head off. But this puts you within arm’s reach which is a dangerous game of chance. You must destroy the brain. This is extremely difficult though because the human skull is created to protect the brain and not let it out. The best way to break the skull open is from the side (like placing your heel behind the ear). Between the sphenoid and the temporal bone is the weakest area of the skull (because it is the slimmest area of the skull) and with enough force it should break. With whatever weapon you are using needs to be able to smash the brain.
Once you have destroyed the brain, you need to burn the body. Just pile all the zombies you have destroyed in a pile and light the mother lover pile on fire. This prevents other animals to eat the bed flesh. Also, this insures that the zombie will not come back. To be safer, once the fire has engulfed the bodies, you need to leave. You do not want to waste time and you do not want other zombies to find you.
Killing zombies is an important skill to have. With practice killing zombies will get easier and you will develop your own sense of what you need to do. Once killing zombies are down pat, gardening will have to be your next goal to master. 

Wednesday Writing Piece Part Three…

Here it is! This one is aimed more at a classification style essay. My others have been description essay, narration essay, and example essay, in that order… Can you name the pieces? haha. Well, enjoy this one!

I Forgot my Excuse

Excuses come in all shapes and sizes. There are the real excuses, the creative ones, the classic ones, the broken ones, and a small percent of excuses that are the truth (like I forgot or I didn’t do it) one. Teachers have learned a system of how these excuse are used, and how to figure out if it’s an actual excuse. Well, without more filler words, let’s hit this out of the park.

There are excuses that are real. These one often can be valid with the simple fact of a note or a second person’s word. These excuses can be anything like “my mother is in the hospital” or “my grandmother just died”. Often these excuses are after a few missed days or a sudden disappearance of the said person. Be careful not immediately jump down the said person’s throat about these. They are sore subjects to accuse the person of lying while this person is crying in front of you.

The creative excuses come in many forms. The simplest forms of these are just spoken words. “The aliens next door took my homework” or “Bob Villa said that doing homework damages the flexibility of my fingers” are just a few of the creative ones out there. If you have a smart “class clown” and few ones that could be heard are: “I made it into a paper plane and it got hijacked”, “I put it in a safe, but lost the combination” and “sorry, but my friend was hungry for knowledge, so he ate my essay.” Sometimes creative notes from ‘parents’ are often worth a good laugh and can almost be worth credit for the actual homework. Some notes can be about “my son can’t play football because of her period” or “please excuse my son; I didn’t make him do it because I didn’t want to add to more work for his teacher’s already heavy workload.” The creative ones are the fun ones to read or to listen to, most of the time, they are just creative excuses.

The classic excuses have been around for ages and no one on this earth can miss them. They smell from a mile away. The most common classic excuse is “my dog at my homework.” There are a small percent of classic excuse that started out as creative one but now are common place and are often jokes about among teachers. A few examples are: “the homework assigned was against my religious views”, “I work better under pressure”, and “I left it at home.” No one can mess with the classics but everyone knows them so there isn’t much effort into those. At the creative excuses had a little thought put in them.

The broken excuses are pretty self explanatory. These come in the range of a broken computer to a broken pencil. Anything that could go wrong could possible go wrong for a student. But it is very rare that everything possible could crash at once. Common broken items for no homework doing are broken computers, no internet, email is down, corrupted files on the broken computers, no paper in the house and broken pens or pencils. Murphy’s Law can strike all on once but for everything to not work or to be broken for months at a time is highly unlikely and must mean that person lives in the Stone Age.

The ‘I forgots” are often the truth. “I forgot to do it” or “I just didn’t do it,” are very honest. If a student says this then most likely they are not trying to fluff you over. They are often the straight to the point. There isn’t much else to say to explain they guys to you. One might want to ask about if the student understands the material. If the student understand everything class then the student may just feel like they do not need to do anything. If the student doesn’t understand the material then you have to help them with the homework. If the student just forgot and it is a once in a blue moon thing I wouldn’t worry too much. We are human!

Post Title Goes Here, Right?

Gah!  I am currently just watching my blinker just blink on my screen.  I have come to a complete stand still.  I was doing so well with my writing and I was getting almost 2000 words a day done for my current project but then suddenly, everything stopped…  It is currently driving me crazy…  I know I can do this but nothing wants to come out…  I am so close of getting the first draft completed…  maybe because I’m so close of being done, I’m shutting down.  Oh no, I need to recharge!

So I am going to try a little bit more but if not I’m going to read or work on my NaNoWriMo project…  that starts in less than a week!  EEEKKKK!! So, go ahead , follow my progress here –>  http://nanowrimo.org/participants/theredhead23   That is my profile on the NaNoWriMo’s website.  I do have a working title for the project..  It’s called “Memories”.  Mind you, still a working title.

On the other front, I have kind of come up with a working project title for my other project…  “Seeds of Change”…  Again, working title.

Well, I’m going to try to get some writing down, work on my blog and other fun stuff, message me or something!  I do love to chat.  And share this with a friend who might like to read the random blabbings of a red head!

Good night!

Second Part – Wednesday’s Writing Piece

Okay, here is the second part of my sharing of the old writings. This one is one of my favorites, so please enjoy it!

Redhead’s in Public 
The first time I realized that being a redhead counted as being a different, was when I was about five years old. I was at church with my grandfather. Every Sunday was church, no and’s, if’, or but’s about it, we had to go every Sunday, but this time it was different. I sat with him throughout the service. This was in fact a very different thing, since most children went to Sunday school. Most of the service went on without a problem. Then came passing of the peace, (which is kind of like a seventh inning stretch but for church folks). Passing of the peace is an act of passing God’s peace to your neighbor or “pew buddy”. It involves shaking hands and saying a lot of “God bless”, but no one is usually sneezing. Anyway, as my grandpa and I went to shake hands and bless our neighbors, I noticed something very odd. Every little blue haired lady, every old school gents, and a lot people looking for the Holy Grail, started touching my hair; not the little hand that stretched out for their giant hands for me to bless them. No, it was red hair that they were more interested in. Not the pretty Sunday dress that my grandfather made me wear, or the little shiny black shoes on; it was nicely brushed hair (which was actually brushed for once) in their grubby giant hands. This was one of many times I have come to the reasoning that I am different and it is all because of being a redhead in public. 
Later on in my life, I was in grade school I believe; I had another memorable encounter with a non-redhead. I was maybe eight years old and it was play time at school. One little kid came up to be in the reading section, where I was reading the great novel of our times – minding my own business, mind you. The kid looked at me and said, “Your hair is weird.” I looked at him (or her, I really can’t remember the gender of the child) and shrugged my shoulders. His partner in crime came up behind me while I was staring at the other child and cut a huge chunk out of hair. It scared me for life. I had to beg the teacher to let me go home and see if my grandfather could glue my beautiful red hair back to me – it didn’t work. I wasn’t the only redhead target for the bullies. There was a redheaded little boy in the same grade but the room next door. I remember seeing him walking out of the classroom with the principal. I later found out that a few of the kids where telling him that his head was on “fire”. This poor redhead friend started to panic (because his mother taught him that fire was bad) and started to run around his classroom crying. Once he calmed down, he realized that the kids were making jokes about his red hair. 
Still not getting the complete picture here? Okay, during my middle and high school years, any class that could bring it up, would bring it out the fact that I’m a redhead. In Spanish class, every teacher would make sure that the class knew that I was a pelirrojo. In any science class, it would be brought up to any one’s attention that redheads have more has far more of the pigment pheomelanin than any other hair color and the least amount of hair follicles compared to the other hair colors; or, the fact that the redhead gene in on chromosome 16. Also, they would mention how rare redheads are and that is a very recessive gene – both parents are required to have a copy of it to pass it on. In math we always had to find the ratio of redheads to the “normal population” since redhead account to maybe one to maybe two percent of the total world population. In history or any social studies class, it was made very clear that Queen Elizabeth I was a red head and that some Neanderthals were also known to have red hair. Occasionally, around Halloween, we were taught that some people believed that redheads were devil workers and cut their hair and killed them. Once in high school, I had to take an acting class (the other option would have been a speech class which I could only imagine the pain); every time we did any acting, I always had to do something relating to Lucie Ball. One way or another, my red hair was the center of attention instead of my brain power. Besides, in psych class, we were taught that red heads have bad or fiery tempers, which generally is not true. I will have to admit that I have showed my fiery temper when my hair comes before me as a person. 
Growing up, I have slowly realized that being a red head has some perks and bad feelings with it. I can stick out in any group. For example, I go to a Mexican restaurants and I stick out. I can bet a lot of money that I will be the only redhead. Anywhere I go, people ask me if I know and leprechauns or if I know the Irish gig; neither do I actually know about. Others ask if my parents have red hair and I reply with a no and they always follow up with the question, “Where did you get it then?” I have replied once that I pulled it out of somewhere not so sunny area and that story didn’t end well. One thing that I am proud of is that I am always known as ‘The Redhead’. I am rarely forgotten (as long as I mention I am the redhead). It means I am hardly confused for any other people with my name and I am a super hero for sarcasm. 
Recently through, there have been times that redheads have taken a few more hits below the belt. In two separated studies during the 2000’s, researchers have found that redheads are more sensitive to thermal pain, that red heads need more anesthetic medications; but, the reasoning is all about something crazy to do with vitamin K. On a bring side, redheads need less pain medication than any other hair colors. On top of that, redheads always tend to bruise easier, and again, researchers’ have discovered this is also a fact. Most recently through, redheaded egg or sperm donors and been REJECTED from actually donating new material or the eggs and sperms that already been donated are being dumped from some huge biological storage companies. Almost every online news channel has been talking about it. The companies behind this are saying that there is not enough need or that the costumers do not want any redheaded children. This was a huge hit for many redheads around the world. It’s a sad day for us as humans. 
Either way you look at this, redheads are people too. We are a dying breed. Redhead need to bind together and bring back the glory days. My suggestion is that redheads need to start mating like crazy before we die out. Here are a just as a few tips to treat us like normal humans follow; please follow them. We don’t always like our hair man-handled like it’s a new born baby. Having red hair doesn’t always been we have bad tempers. Those rumors were all started after people started to man handling our hair! Don’t get confused over where our hair comes from, or be shocked by some creative answers you may get. Do not, under any circumstance, misjudge a redhead for being a Neanderthal and especially for the short redheads, do not call them a leprechaun. Most of all, when you see a little redheaded child in her Sunday best, trying to pass the peace, please take her hand, not a chunk of her hair!

11 days…

This is going to be short and sweet.  So pay attention!

GAH!  I have eleven days until my deadline for my first draft and I can’t get a word out.  I know what I want to write but I just can’t seem to get on the screen.  I just keep seeing ‘chapter twenty – nine’ and then I freeze. I don’t know why, but I do.  It is driving me crazy. Yesterday was like my day off from like everything. No house work, no work, no writing, just video-games and handing out.  I thought that maybe a day off from everything would help energizer my creative juices.  It kinda did but now I’m feeling guilty because I didn’t get anything done.

On top of finishing up the first draft of this project, I have to be working on my NaNoWriMo thing because that starts November first, which is in eleven days. GAH! Why can’t I take the rest of the year off from work and just write.  They can pay me until I get published.  I mean, I’ll be nice and they don’t have to pay me for the rest of my life. Ha, I can dream huh?  Oh well, I can get this done.  I know it.

So, off I go, I’m going to try to get some writing done.  Wish me luck.

Late night ideas

I am talking about those late night ideas that keep you up at night.  Those ideas that drive you crazy to the point where your brain won’t shut off and your mind just keeps screaming ‘WRITE THIS DOWN’.  I am in the middle one of those episodes right now.  It’s kinda crazy but it is so nice just to focus on my writing.  There is just something about night time writing that is just so peaceful.  I think it’s because everyone is asleep and all I can hear is my own thoughts.  And especially after the day I had today, it’s nice to just get some writing done. Just to foucs on me (and my characters). Even through I have work in the morning, it’s just nice to write.  I do need to sleep but for right now, the sound of the keys on my keyboard being pressed is music to my ears.  It is quite nice.  Well, enjoy! 

Wednesday’s Writing Piece

So, I think I am going to make Wednesdays a day that I share old writing pieces and have you guys enjoy it. ENJOY!

Graveyards & Grandpas

Most people are terrified by graveyards. Zombies, vampires and other crazy monsters come from graveyards. Here are the quick facts – Zombies are created by bio-weapon viruses and vampires are sparkly and somehow, became sex idols. Graveyards are where the best memories I have were made.
My grandfather and I went to the graveyard every other Sunday afternoon (during the good weather, of course). There were the times we went to the graves just before a major holiday and just after they were over. At the graveyard, there were three headstones we would go to; the first one was my grandfather’s parents, the second one was a very small one and it belonged to his great-grandparents and the third one was much bigger than the rest (it housed five people) and it was his great aunt and her family members. (As a side note, I learned that she was one of the first women to have a master’s degree in English in 1927 – my grandfather wished I would follow her footsteps.)
The ritual started shortly after I learned to walk and was able to take basic directions. The ritual itself had its own yearly time frame. It usually started in the beginning of spring after the last frost; we would go out there and clean up the ground to get ready to the spring flowers. Once spring started to take off, we would go to our neighborhood flower nursery and pick out the best looking flowers. Usually during the same weekend, we would go and plant them. Then our trips during the summer would be about watering the flowers and making everything look decent. That included using Windex on the headstones to make ‘em shine! When the leaves started to fall, that meant cleaning the headstones and the areas around them, for winter. Once winter hit, we would just stop by and pay our respects.
When we started going to the grave as a pair, my grandfather did most of the work. He bought be a mini set of garden tools to help him, but I didn’t really use it much to help. I was running around though the graves by myself. (It’s a graveyard; no one can take me, because they’re dead!) I do not remember the actual time he scolded me, but I still remember the lesson about not running on the graves. He also reminded me that it was like running on their bed (that was a big no-no as a two year old). Still to this day, I do not walk across the graves, I just walk between them.
I remember this story from my grandfather – it was his favorite story to remind me about how sweet children are – and he told any of my new friends this story. The setting of the story is during one of our spring adventures to the graves. We were at his parent’s grave. I was most likely seven or eight (this was my most innocent period of time.) We got all our supplies out and had just started getting busy. Being a normal seven year old, I suddenly noticed that there was a new headstone up and a big, brown rectangle in the middle of the green grass. He said that Mr. Smith had passed away. (I really don’t remember his name, so we will go with the Smiths.) I stated at with a large about of confusion and asked again why there was a big brown rectangle there. He replied that he was buried there. Something must have hit me because I ran to the car and grabbed my little shovel. I got to the rectangle and started to dig. My grandfather with his inhumanly long arms reached over and grabbed the shovel away from me. “What are you doing?” I looked at him with all the sincerity of a seven year old and said, “We need to un-dig him before he dies in there!” Oh, the lesson I learned from that. 
When I got older, going to the graveyard was better than going to the playground. The older I got, the more lessons I learned about any given topic. For example, I learned anywhere from the proper way to work with wire (you have to loop or have soft corners it verse making sharp corners on things so it doesn’t break; it is very helpful to go a week before planting and aerate the soil; I learned that death is kind of like taxes – we all get stuck with it. (Or the kid version I still like death is like pooping we all have to do at some point.) Going to the graveyard turned more that I was doing most of the labor and my grandfather was guiding me. It was kind of is like he would start with working with me on the ground to just standing by me to just leaning of the car. I took on more of the chores of our ritual and at times, I was the one that pushed to go to the graveyard.
By the time I got to high school, I was doing most of the talking and doing most of the chores. At the time I thought that my grandfather was just letting me run the show. It didn’t hit until his death that we grow older and do slow down. We lose our abilities; but something my grandfather taught me, indirectly, was that we do not lose our memories. That is something that I am glad that I haven’t lose those important memories, even though I have lost my grandfather.