piątek, 31 grudnia 2010
czwartek, 30 grudnia 2010
CENTER STAGE
Są takie miejsce, które gdy je odwiedzimy "zarażają" nas swoją pozytywną energią.
Moim numerem Uno na liscie takich miejsc jest Salon Fryzjerski CENTER STAGE.
Dziewczyny na czele z Patrycja wiedza jak sprawic, zeby bylo pieknie, kobieco
i cieplo. Wygada sie czlowiek, posmieje, poslucha muzyki, wymasuja go i do tego jeszcze wyjdzie SEXY. Tym razem bylam tam z moja coreczka Agniesia, ktora kobiece "zabiegi", a w jej przypadku podciecie wlosow, nie interesowaly tak jak glowny domownik tego miejsca, czyli mowiac jej jezykiem "sliczny kotek".
Dziewczyny dziekuje jak zawsze z calego serca.
wtorek, 28 grudnia 2010
piątek, 24 grudnia 2010
WESOLYCH SWIAT
1. Ta noc jest taka cicha, za oknem całkiem już biało.
A Ty daleko stąd wszystkie drogi śniegiem zawiało.
Każdy wysyła w pospiechu sms-owe życzenia.
Nie chcę od Ciebie żadnych prezentów.
Przyjedź to moje marzenie.
ref.
Chcę z Tobą spędzić święta,
bo tylko wtedy dla mnie liczą się,
gdy w Twojej dłoni moja dłoń zmarznięta.
Przyjedź do mnie jak najprędzej.
Chcę z Tobą spędzić święta,
z nadzieją spojrzeć w pierwszej gwiazdy blask.
Usłyszeć znowu naszą kolędę.
Przyjedź do mnie jak najprędzej.
jak najprędzej
2. Dziś wiem, że wszystkie smutki zamienią się w dobre chwile.
Wybaczyć łatwo jest, gdy w miłości odnajdziesz siłę.
Czekam na Ciebie tu w domu, ogień w kominku już gaga.
Pachnie choinka i barszcz na stole,
a śnieg pada i pada.
ref.
Chcę z Tobą spędzić święta,
bo tylko wtedy dla mnie liczą się,
gdy w Twojej dłoni moja dłoń zmarznięta.
Przyjedź do mnie jak najprędzej.
Chcę z Tobą spędzić każdy dzień.
Przy Tobie zapominam, że
próżności wyścig wokół trwa.
Kto więcej daje, kto więcej ma.
a jaa...
Chcę z Tobą spędzić święta,
bo tylko wtedy dla mnie liczą się,
gdy w Twojej dłoni moja dłoń zmarznięta.
Przyjedź do mnie jak najprędzej.
Chcę z Tobą spędzić święta.
Z nadzieją spojrzeć w pierwszej gwiazdy blask.
Usłyszeć znowu naszą kolędę.
Przyjedź do mnie proszę
Przyjedź do mnie proszę
jak najprędzej.
POSLUCHAJCIE: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NjvjC6Q5wYg
czwartek, 23 grudnia 2010
ECH, KIEDYS TO BYLY SWIETA
Swięta niemalże za rogiem, a ja wracam wspomnieniami jak zawsze do swiat mego dzieciństwa, tych spędzanych w rodzinnym domu i tych u dziadków na Wygodzie.
Pachnialy one nie tylko choinką, pierożkami z kapustą, zapachem sledzi, ale przede wszystkim dzieciństwem. Nie bylo tak jak dzisiaj tuzina bombek do wyboru, tysiąca lampek na choince. Byla natomiast mala choinka, która dziadek osobiscie scinal
w lesie, byly koledy, rodzinna atmosfera, pasterka, na którą często furą jechalo sie kilkanascie kilometrów do najbliższego kosciola. Nikomu nie przeszkadzal mroz, nikt nie narzekal na zimno, nikt nawet nie myslal o swiętach bez sniegu.
Nawet paczki, slodycze i pomarancze, pomiędzy które babcia potajemnie wkladala pieniądze, mialy wartosc cenniejszą niz góry prezentów chowane dzisiaj pod choinkę.
Pamiętam wspólny spiew kolęd, drewno skrzące się w piecu, dziadka, który po wieczerzy wigilijnej dumnie wręczal mojej mamie i cioci po jednym papierosie Malboro, boz to przecież swięta. Brakuje mi tamtych swiat, bo nigdy juz nie wrócą, ale to wlasnie tamte Boże Narodzenia z dzieciństwa uksztaltowaly moj wizerunek swiat Narodzenia Panna - swiąt rodzinnych, cieplych, serdecznych, bo spędzonych z rodziną.
To wlasnie dzięki tamtym swiętom dzis wiem jak chcę, żeby wyglądaly swięta mojej
2-letniej córeczki. Marzę tylko, by nigdy nie zapomniala czyje to swięta i że najważniejszy w tym dniu jest Nowonarodzony Jezus, że w tym okresie najważniejsza jest rodzina.
Dziękuję Bogu, że to dzięki mojej córeczce Wigilie mego dzieciństwa nadal są żywe.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XebYmo34LCs&feature=relatedła
poniedziałek, 20 grudnia 2010
ROBBY
This is a true story and it will give you the
chills.
This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well
worth the read.
At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from DesMoines , Iowa .
I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students.
However, I have also had my share of what I call 'musically challenged'
pupils - one such pupil being Robby..
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all my students
to learn. Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him.
At the end of each weekly lesson he
would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.
I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his
lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that
because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify.
He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons,
but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.
Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this
special night?'
Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No.
21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I
heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent!
Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms
around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it?
' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well ...... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.'
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to
foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy ....... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be
even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
Thank you for reading this.
May God Bless you today, tomorrow and always.
If God didn't have a purpose for us, we
wouldn't be here!
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.
=
chills.
This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance. Well
worth the read.
At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story. My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from DesMoines , Iowa .
I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons - something I have done for over 30 years.
During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students.
However, I have also had my share of what I call 'musically challenged'
pupils - one such pupil being Robby..
Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off for his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother's dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.
Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor. As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel. But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all my students
to learn. Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him.
At the end of each weekly lesson he
would always say 'My mom's going to hear me play someday'. But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.
I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up. She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.
Then one day Robby stopped coming for his
lessons. I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else. I was also glad that he had stopped coming - he was a bad advertisement for my teaching!
Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students' homes. To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that
because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify.
He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons,
but that he had been practicing. 'Please Miss Honor, I've just got to play' he insisted. I don't know what led me to allow him to play in the recital - perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.
The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a
finishing piece. I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my 'curtain closer'.
Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed. Then Robby came up on the stage. His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it. 'Why wasn't he dressed up like the other students?' I thought. 'Why didn't his mother at least make him comb his hair for this
special night?'
Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart's Concerto No.
21 in C Major. I was not prepared for what I
heard next. His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories. He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent!
Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.
After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause! Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms
around Robby in joy. 'I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it?
' Through the microphone Robby explained: 'Well, Miss Honor .... remember I told you that my mom was sick? Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. And well ...... she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.'
There wasn't a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to
foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.
No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy ....... of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be
even taking a chance on someone and you didn't know why.
Robby was killed years later in the senseless bombing of the Alfred P. Murray Federal Building in Oklahoma City in April, 1995.
Thank you for reading this.
May God Bless you today, tomorrow and always.
If God didn't have a purpose for us, we
wouldn't be here!
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Leave the rest to God.
=
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