Familia Vaz Lima
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
How to tell if your feet stink.....
Monday, April 28, 2008
Jardim Botânico Tropical
DIGAM NÃO ao projecto de Acordo Ortográfico da Língua Portuguesa!Húmido sem 'h'?????????????? Facto sem 'c'???????????????Afinal onde fica a etimologia das palavras? A lingua tão bem tratada por Camões nasceu em Portugal ou no Brasil?Pois eu continuarei, orgulhosamente a escrever Humidade, Húmido, faCto, aCto, aCção !!!
Leiam e assinem, se concordarem. Apesar do texto estar escrito com alguns erros ortográficos, a ideia está bem assente e tem fundamento!http://www.petitiononline.com/asdf54gf/petition-sign.html (copiem para o vosso browser)Caros amigos,Se são portugueses e vos resta algum orgulho nacional - Contra o acordo ortográfico, preencham a petição.Ninguém tem que alterar a sua forma de escrever para que nos entendamos. Nem os portugueses nem os guineenses nem os brasileiros !
Cada um dos nossos povos lusófonos, tem evoluído e irá continuar a evoluir com as suas especificidades e influências e é na diversidade que nos identificamos como povos .
Nenhum acordo me pode obrigar a escrever como os brasileiros nem vice-versa. Um FACTO para mim, não é um FATO ! Um CÁGADO não é um CAGADO !
Esta imbecilidade só é possível num país fraco, com políticos fracos e com um povo que tem exactamente o que merece devido ao seu desinteresse por tudo.
Deixarem que o nosso maior património seja adulterado por interesses puramente económicos.?!?!
Acham que os ingleses mudariam a sua escrita porque os americanos são mais? Ou os espanhóis com a América do Sul ??? A França mudaria a sua ortografia por imposição do Canadá ?
É UMA VERGONHA !Será que continuaremos a comemorar o 5 de Outubro ou o 5 de outubro ? Tristes daqueles a quem isto não faz confusão.Acham que por haver este acordo os brasileiros vão saber o que é o pequeno-almoço ? Será que irão começar a usar esta frase em vez de café-da-manhã ? Ridículo!Já agora e como nota de rodapé, fiquem a saber que vamos alterar 3 vezes mais palavras do Brasileiro para o Português do que o contrário!
A escrita portuguesa vai ser completamente abrasileirada.Não posso concordar.
Eu, podem ter a certeza, que apesar de quererem acabar com o HÍFEN porque tenho orgulho em ser português e no meu nome de família, me continuarei a chamar até ao fim dos meus dias ,Pedro Sá-Chaves
Temos fotos e notícias
Let´s fight povety!/Campanha contra a pobreza - excelente
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Hoje lá foi mais um...
Notícias do Yoshi
Já estou um gatão grande! A minha doninha tem de me tirar uma fotos bonitinhas para enviar. Além disso tenho dois maninhos. São mais pequeninos que eu mas eu tomo conta deles e ensino-os a fazer traquinices. Já estão comigo à uma semana, assim que os vi fiquei delirante. Fui eu que os ensinei a ir ao caixote e aconchego-os sempre para dormirem.
Os meus doninhos estão muito felizes comigo e com os meus manos.
Já consigo dar pulos maiores, até já consigo saltar para cima do sofá sem ser preciso a mantinha que a minha doninha lá pos para eu consegui lá chegar.
Dantes dormia com os meus doninhos na caminha deles mas agora durmo com os meus manos porque sou um mano responsável e não descanso enquanto eles não estão a dormir ferradinhos, depois então posso ir brincar com os meus donos de novo.
Estava um bocadinho preguiçoso para comer granulado mas agora já como. A minha dona foi juntando agua para ser mais molinho para mim e depois foi reduzindo na agua aos poucos. Agora já como granulado e gosto muito. Porque só beber leitinho e comer latinhas estava-me a deixar com alguma diarreia. Agora já estou bem desde que começei a comer mais granulado que latinhas e porque a minha dona fez um remedio caseiro para mim, agua de arroz.
Em breve mando fotos minhas com os meus manos, Tommy e Teco.
Lambidelas fofinhas e algumas arranhadelas a subir pelas pernas,
25 de Abril...
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Mais outro que foi...
Apanhados em Africa!
Check these out!
http://www.verticalthought.org ~ http://www.gnmagazine.org and http://www.wnponline.org/
And you...what would you do??
Claire BatesSky News OnlineUpdated:09:23, Thursday April 24, 2008
James Hughes' story has re-opened the emotive issue of parents who care for severely disabled children and the pressures it puts on their families.
Here, Sky producer Claire Bates, tells her own personal story about looking after Noah - her five-year-old son who has cerebral palsy.
I can remember it so clearly.
I was sat by the fire at my parents' home in the shadow of the happy, smiling family photos on the mantelpiece.
Noah was still crying.
I uncurled myself from the tight ball I'd made on the hearth rug, looked up slowly at my Dad....and begged him to kill my son.
It would be quite simple, I said. Use a pillow.
Believe me. Whatever Heather Wardle may've done I know how she felt.
And don't you dare judge her - any of you.
Until you have reached the utter depths of genuinely believing that death would be preferable for the person you love more than anything in the world, please don't insult her memory by pretending to know.
Don't call for a public inquiry, don't ask why "the social" didn't do more, don't raise critical eyebrows and think ridiculous naive thoughts like "how could she really have loved her son?". Just let Heather Wardle be.
Of course none of us yet knows what happened to the mother-of-four and her 22-year-old disabled son James - we may never know.
But instantly, people are guessing, surmising, assuming that she could no longer cope with the burden and may have harmed James and herself.
Our son Noah Elliot Bates was born at 1908 on Boxing Day 2002.
It had been a perfect pregnancy. I adored my bump, I'd had no sickness and textbook scans. Paul and I knew we were having a boy and named him Noah .
Daddy chatted to his unborn boy every night. We dreamed he'd walk out on the Lords outfield as England cricket captain, after, that is, he'd been to Oxford where he'd got a First in English.
He'd marry a lovely girl and live in a lovely house, with lovely children and a lovely dog. Lovely.
My waters broke Christmas Day night - the day Noah was due - and 25 hours later he made his way into the world. Silently.
I asked the midwife over and over why he wasn't crying. I remember pleading to know what was happening. I hadn't even seen his tiny, damp face. He'd gone straight out of the door.
Two hours later we were reunited, of sorts. He lay in an incubator in the special care unit hooked to wires, tubes and bleeping machines.
Noah had, for some as yet unexplained reason, simply not taken his first breath.
The starvation of oxygen had caused severe damage to his brain.
Brain damaged. Mentally handicapped. Spastic. Call it whatever PC or un-PC name you will. It all means the same: I am the mother of child with cerebral palsy who will need me to feed him and change his nappy for the rest of his and my life.
It is a long story and I insult the patience, tenacity, determination, strength and love of my husband, my family and my friends to reduce our utterly impossible journey to a few lines, but Noah is now five and attending a wonderful school near our home in Salisbury, Wiltshire.
He will never walk, talk, sit unaided, raise his hands, touch anything, taste anything - or know who his Mummy is.
As well as his near total brain damage, he has epilepsy, is quadriplegic and almost certainly blind. He cannot swallow so is fed overnight by a pump through a 'button' in his stomach.
His two-year-old brother calls it his bionic belly button.
You see, it's all so normal to him - and now us - but the darkest days of total despair, coming to terms with his absolutely basic of existences and the damn hard physical and mental toll that it takes on both him, and us, are the most painful moments I will ever know.
I'm a tough old bird. I say feisty, some say bossy!
As a journalist, I interviewed prime ministers, murderers, difficult movie stars. I'd happily strike up a conversation with Bill Clinton if he walked into a room. I'd done 24-hour shifts, come through a painful divorce and yet I couldn't deal with this.
The first ten months were the most gruelling, difficult, emotional, painful, tearful and exhausting of my life.
Because the lack of oxygen had also left Noah with epilepsy, his brain was constantly 'wired'. He never slept for more than two hours in any 24, so my husband Paul and I operated a four hours on, four hours off shift system, day and night.
At five years old, he's never slept through the night.
As a baby, he never smiled - he's still never smiled - and never opened his eyes without crying. He would sleep, then scream, scream and scream for six, seven, eight hours until he fell back asleep. Then it would all start again.
It was three months into this shattering routine that I found myself at my parents' home, begging my father to put a pillow over Noah's face and end it.
Partly for me, mostly for him.
He was fitting almost every waking minute and because he was screaming in confusion from the seizures, we assumed he was screaming because he was in continual pain.
As a mother, I couldn't bear that. We often say we can't bear things - like leg waxing or Marmite. This, I couldn't bear. I physically couldn't go on. When I cried, it didn't sound like me. I was wailing.
I wanted to end his suffering. It was at that moment, I understood how a Mummy truly loves their child. But equally, I knew I couldn't do it. I knew I couldn't bear life without the child I loved so completely.
Then of course, I hated myself for not being strong enough to end his pain, and for being too selfish for wanting him around. There's not a book in the world, not a doctor, not an expert, who can explain the torment of emotion that goes with discovering you have a child with the most complex of mental and physical handicaps.
I'll never forget my Dad's face. I can't imagine how it must feel to have your child ask you to do something so, so awful. He looked haunted, probably feeling the same as me - the sheer desperation of being unable to erase the pain from the thing you love most.
If Heather Wardle did end hers and her son's lives I kind of admire her.
Don't flood Sky News Online with complaining texts unless for even just 24 hours you've been in mine or her shoes.
I couldn't end Noah's life because I wasn't strong enough to do what I genuinely, totally, 100 per cent thought was right for him. At the time, his life was completely intolerably painful, confusing and without any quality whatsoever.
He still has minimal quality of life and when he's ill with a simple cough or cold, it quickly becomes pneumonia and what little 'contentment' he has been experiencing (we never say 'happiness') is quickly cancelled out.
But you know what, I couldn't end his life because I love him so desperately and knew even when he was one minute old I couldn't spend any part of my life without him. Selfish huh?
Those precious few moments when we think he is free from pain, and maybe 'enjoying' the feel of the wind on his cheeks mean everything to us.
What people forget when they look at Noah and say how sorry they are, is that we're not. We've got a son we love and however different his life is - it is his life and a valid one.
Perhaps Heather Wardle was stronger than me. Perhaps she wasn't.
Perhaps she should've been given more help - all carers should. It is criminal how little successive governments recognise the loving commitment of mothers and fathers in these situations - and take the care that saves their administrations millions and millions, utterly for granted.
Perhaps a lot of things should've or could've been done differently in her life.
But please don't judge her.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
A Fofa precisa da nossa ajuda!!!
Female Diet Can Influence Baby Gender - Sky News Video Player
What are your views, do u agree or not???
Good Morning/Bom Dia!!!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Help! Cat Music Video
Monday, April 21, 2008
Porquinhos da India/Guinea Pigs
Finalmente Boas notícias!
Sunday, April 20, 2008
How weird is the weather??
Saturday, April 19, 2008
South Africa : The Racist Capital of the World
Man how true is this????? Very true!!!!!
Friday, April 18, 2008
A Good Saturday
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
It's Great to be a Souf Efrikan
This is a great country because:
1. You can eat half dried meat and not be considered disgusting.
2. Nothing is your fault, you can blame it all on apartheid.
3. You get to buy a new car every 3 months and the insurance company even pays for it.
4. You can experience kak service in eleven official languages.
5. Where else can you get oranges with 45% alcohol content at rugby matches?
6. It's the only country in the world where striking workers show how angry they are by dancing and singing.
7. You're considered clumsy if you cannot: use a cell phone (without car kit), change CDs, drink a beer, put on make-up, read the newspaper and smoke, all at the same time while driving a car at 160 kph in a 60 kph zone.
8. Great accent. (!!!)
9. If you live in Johannesburg, you get to brag about living in the most dangerous city in the world.
10. Burglar bars become a feature, and a great selling point for your house.
11. You can decorate your garden walls with barbed wire.
12. The tow-trucks are the first on the scene for most major crimes, without being called. The police you have to call about three times.
13. Votes have to be recounted until the right party wins.
14. Illegal immigrants leave the country because the crime rate is too high.
15. The police ask you if they must follow up on the burglary you've just reported.
16. When a murderer gets a 6 month sentence and a pirate TV viewer 2 years.
17. The prisoners strike and get to vote in elections!
18. The police stations have panic buttons to call armed response when they are burgled
19. Police cars are fitted with immobilisers and gearlocks!
As I don´t feel like or have time for any serious posting I leave yall with this great clip!!!
Bactéria que afeta crianças preocupa britânicos
Monday, April 14, 2008
Yoshi na sua nova Familia.
Pau pra toda obra...
O pintor Tim Patch mostra retrato de Olga Braude feito durante a feira do sexo, na África do Sul
Para quem se interessou pela técnica "diferente" utilizada por Tim Patch, no site do artista é possível vê-lo em ação em um vídeo.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Noticias sobre os gatinhos da Mimi
Os meus doninhos batizaram-me de Yoshi. Já estou ambientado à minha casinha nova. Já mio pouco, só quando não encontro algum dos doninhos.
Mesmo quando não os encontro já arranjei solução... trepo para cima da cama deles e vou-me enroscar no meio do edredon, se tiver vontade de um xixi ou de comer volto a descer agarradinho no edredon e lá vou eu à cozinha.
Durmos com eles na caminha deles e ficamos ali os 3 muito quentinhos e adormeço sempre a fazer ronron com os miminhos deles.
Sou um comilão, passo a vida a comer. Adoro saquetas mas principalmente o molho delas. A minha doninha é que insiste pa eu beber leitinho para gatinhos porque sou pequenino mas agora ela já percebeu que se for morninho eu bebo melhor do que natural, como o da minha mãe era.
Mando também algumas fotos para que vejam como estou feliz.
P.S. Acho que dentro em breve sempre vou ter uma maninha da minha idade para brincar comigo.
Muito ronron e muitas marradinha,