Just wondering if I'll ever manage to update this regularly again ... though I must say that the things I'm doing are not always worth writing about...

There has been progress in a few areas though, in the last few weeks; Asha is improving on a daily basis and has become quite a lovely little pup to have around. I hardly believe that I wanted to get rid of her in week 2! I've started puppy obedience classes with her in a group of 6 dogs, and out of the 6 she's definitely one of the star pupils (much of which can be attributed to her age though, I think). She's coping with all of the commands really well (many of which I've been doing with her for several weeks), and she's absolutely brilliant at socialising because of the plethora of dogs I've introduced her to over the last 8 weeks, some of whom have dominated and even attacked her. Nowadays she automatically assumes subordinate position with other dogs, whether puppy or adult dog, obviously opting for the easy life (not so easy when Archie the boxer decides to have his wicked way with her, seemingly indifferent as to which end of her he's mounting!)

Progress has also been made with the garden, due mainly to a very nice Dutch man who runs a local landscaping business and who very kindly spent an hour and a half walking me around the garden (which his company designed many years ago), naming each of the plants and giving me a course of action for those that require maintenance now. Which led me to transplant one shrub and prune all the roses (a big job in our garden and one which I should definitely have undertaken with gloves *on*). We're also using the landscaping company to change the layout of our front approach, from a gravel carpark the entire width of the house with two open gateways, to a single-approach parking area on one side of the house, with a pedestrian gate leading to the back door. Gardeners to be expected in the next few days ...

We spent most of half term at home, with a lovely couple of playdates (with one incorporating a woodland trek in torrential rain), and then headed up to Shropshire to introduce Asha to the joys of Nanna and Zoe's dogs (from whom she received a mixed response!), sheep poo (mmm tasty!) and walks which I subsequently discovered were WAY too long for her (we've downgraded to 30 minutes twice a day in order to preserve those precious joints).

The last couple of days we've been struggling with cold conditions in the house as the automatic notification system for our LPG tank failed to notify Calor that we needed a refil. Luckily though, it was after I had cooked lasagne for 16 for lunch on Sunday that we noticed the Aga losing heat. Calor just about managed to scramble distribution to our aid on Tuesday at two o'clock (I had been promised an early morning delivery on my answerphone), but even so it was another couple of hours before the central heating boiler automatically started and a good couple of hours of fiddling with the Aga and calling the Calor engineer out before we all realised there's something wrong with the starting valve thingy which we need the assistance of an Aga engineer to fix. Of course no-one can come out until tomorrow afternoon, by which time I'll have been boiling water in the microwave (what a long-drawn-out process that is) for 4 days. But at least I had a shower this morning (albeit lukewarm) so I can't complain too loudly. Oh, except that I have to cook dinner for 4 children in the microwave this afternoon, which isn't ideal.

Having signed up for a regular spin class last Wednesday, I came down with a throat infection thing this week which has thoroughly drained me, and rendered me incapable of doing anything more than strolling across Surrey heathland with the dog. I'm absolutely sick of not doing exercise and my mind quite frequently wanders back to this time last year when I was preparing avidly and effectively for my summer Ironman and felt strong and efficient and fit. I don't necessarily want to go back there (I felt tired too, I mustn't forget), but there must be a middle ground ...

March is going to be a busy month. 2 weekends of visitors followed by Miles's party and then a weekend with Roj away (right at the beginning of Easter holidays - are they that close already?) Plenty of other things inbetween as well, to fill in the time which flies at breakneck speed. Spring is tangibly within our grasp though, these last few sunny days, and I'm starting to anticipate those outdoor meals and long leisurely weekends in the garden. Never mind that I'm currently wearing 3 thermal layers and a down jacket!

Things continue to improve. Asha is getting the hang of not weeing in the house - or maybe I'm just not allowing her the opportunity to do so. These days if she's awake she's mostly in with me in the kitchen/dining room rather than confined to the back corridor where her crate is. This means I can keep an eye on her, interact with her, show her affection and all those good things, while still getting on with some of my own stuff (in a limited way; all I've basically managed to do is read a book or clear up in the kitchen!) That said, she did wee on Sue's floor yesterday (tile, fortunately) but I prefer to explain that away with the excitement of being in a different house with a dominating cocker spaniel.

I'm doing a bit more formal training than I was before and she's amazing me with her responsiveness; we're working on 'down', 'stay', 'leave it', and 'fetch' (incorporating 'take it', 'come' and 'give'). Although she's theoretically a bit young to be completing these commands effectively I've found she's an avid learner and is meeting most of my challenges with enthusiasm. It's so great to be doing something constructive with her too, rather than just wandering around the back garden, which loses it's thrill the hundredth time you do it in 4 degree weather!

Miles is at home today. He spent all last night with a dry cough and slept hardly a wink. I got up at 1:30 and 4:45 to give him more medicine, though it didn't do much good. He's also got a nasty graze on his chin where he tripped in the playground yesterday. He was very brave about the whole thing until he caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror at bedtime, at which point he broke into hysterical floods of tears, obviously scared at the look of his wound. He was in such a sorry state I cancelled our babysitter and let Roj attend the lane AGM on his own which worked out for the best anyway. He wasn't back til after 10, so our tentative plan to go out and grab a light bite to eat afterwards wouldn't have worked. Besides which I got to watch the first 15 minutes of Desperate Housewives before dragging myself off to bed (or not, as it happened, as Roj walked through the door and was catching me up with all the new neighbours he'd met). I'm hoping it'll be repeated on Sunday or something.

At this point I'm wondering what exercise is? And sleep?

I can't believe what's happened these last 4 days. On Thursday afternoon I was tearing my hair out and literally ready to ring the breeder and return Asha. I was sick of her jumping up to nose level and snapping her teeth at me; I was sick of her manic airborne writhing when I was trying to send my best calm energy her way. And worst of all, I was concerned to see how both my children - including, incredibly, balk-at-nothing Jody - were scared of going near her without the baby gate firmly shut inbetween. I could only picture futures with aggressive dogs and muzzles and a healthy distance needing to be maintained, and that wasn't for a second what I'd hoped for from our family pet. Along with the important criteria of having an eager running dog, I wanted a friendly biddable dog who would tolerate and enjoy the abuse thrown at it by the kids; I wanted this to be an experience for the kids in learning about responsibility and caring for another creature. I didn't want them to have to wear chainmail gauntlets in order to do that.

So on Thursday afternoon, after rather panicked (but useful) phonecalls to my parents and dog-experienced Nanna and Zoe, I placed a plea to my local dog trainer to come to my house by Friday to assess Asha and help me know if I was approaching her in the right way; and then to a local flat-coated retriever breeder who, I hoped, could give me some insight into the breed and whether Asha was indeed, exceptionally hyper and uncontrollable or not. I was also poised to ring Asha's breeder and exercise my right to return her with no questions asked within the 2-week period.

Fortunately, the two phonecalls served to reassure me that some dogs do need some extra authority before they listen and learn; that while many dogs loyally follow instruction, there are others which will escalate behaviour just to see what happens. Much of the feedback from each of the two experts indicated that although particularly boisterous and a little stubborn, Asha was totally normal in her behaviours and would just need a firm voice of discipline - and some extra time - in order to bring her into line.

And even better, the trainer was able to come for a 1.5 hour consultation on Friday afternoon.

But even by then (after a visit to the vet for final vaccinations and general check-up), Asha was starting to change. She was tangibly starting to listen to my instruction 80% of the time (instead of 10%), and respond in a predictable way. She seemed calmer and happier all round. So much so that I was laughing when the trainer arrived to find a very biddable friendly pup who barely once jumped up and bit!

It was a useful session nonetheless, mainly because the trainer was able to reassure me that I am approaching things in exactly the right way. She explained that there is never a miracle behavioural cure, and that consistency is the key. And she showed me some useful tips to limit Asha's naughtiness when it gets out of hand (particularly with the kids), without any kind of cruelty or frustration needing to emerge.

On Friday afternoon we had a problem of a different sort though, when Asha decided she was going to down her entire water bowl several times. Sadly input leads inevitably to output, so we were dealing from about 2pm with about 1 wee every 10 minutes (inside or out, depending on where she was at the time). Back to the vets it had to be, to eliminate a urinary tract infection before the weekend.

And then all weekend Asha seemingly changed into this loving, contented little animal; I've seen none of the frenzy she was demonstrating last week and not once have I felt the desire to leave her to simmer down in the back corridor.

I am completely convinced that she was just taking her sweet time to adjust to life in our household, away from the hustle and bustle of her litter and family. I think it's safe to say that she was entirely freaked out by the experience. I need to watch her development, but generally speaking I'm happy that we're all moving in the right direction.

The only significant problem still remaining is her toilet training which is absolutely impossible. In all the literature I read before bringing Asha home, there are ample statements about how straightforward it is to toilet train a pup if you do it the right way, and how naturally they have an inclination to keep their living environment clean. Well all I can say to that is bollocks! Asha doesn't mind wee-ing in her crate one little bit. Nor does she mind wee-ing right outside her crate or on any part of the floor she calls her own. There are no advance warnings either; the first we know of it is when she squats her little hindlegs and we have about a millisecond before the flood hits the floor. Plus with her inclination to over-drink (the vet gave her the all-clear, and I've since read online that puppies frequently drink too much), we are sometimes faced with periods of the day where she'll do a wee every few minutes when at other times she'll stay dry a few hours. It's all very exasperating but all I can do is continue the over-the-top positive affirmation when she gets it right in the garden, and the cool-as-a-cucumber silent cleaning duties that frequent my waking hours. And thank God we don't have a Shih tzu which reputedly never learn to toilet train at all!

On the bright side, after advice from the trainer I've adjusted my night-time ritual to get 6 hours of unbroken sleep; Roj lets Asha out at 11pm and I then get up at 4 to let her out (which after 3 nights of experimentation, is the point at which I've found she can't hold it any longer). It's then back to bed until 6 when I let her out again and get her food prepared. It sounds a bit gruelling but it's streets better than the 2am, 5am I was doing up until Thursday night, and the trainer says that for every dry night, I should get up 10 minutes later, with the eventual aim of getting her to sleep through the night. How much like having a baby does this sound!!?

Anyway with all this dog stuff going on, there's very little else to report. We had guests for the day on Saturday so my morning was spent running between back corridor with Dettox and a J-cloth, and the kitchen to check on my roast beef (don't trust a Salter meat thermometer; take 10 degrees off everything it tells you). I did a little craft project with Jody on Sunday morning while Roj took Miles to rugby (a possibility I've been looking forward to for ages as I get so little time with Jody on my own). The kids went to their regular swimming lesson as usual on Saturday morning, and otherwise we spent our time pottering in garden and house.

Which is the shape of things to come, I think, until Asha's behaviour and toilet manners improve.

I get my independence after 7 years of pregnancy and pre-school children, meaning that I can utilise the time they're finally both in school to do other, child-unrelated stuff. I enjoy going out running or cyling, sorting stuff in the house, and most of all being free to come and go as I please within the confines of my domestic obligations.

So what do I do with this new-found freedom?

I get a small dependent creature which pees on the floor every 10 minutes and requires frequent feeding, which needs constant reassurance, affection and encouragement; and with whom I must stand out in the garden in all weathers at all times of day or night.

In return it chews my wellies, jumps on any clean laundry I drop on the floor, shreds the newspaper I put down for it, makes holes in my hands and jeans and ignores every toy and every word of well-meaning enthusiastic training that I throw her way.

That's Asha.

To be fair, Asha is also a very cute and endearing little furball. She is intelligent and responsive (when she wants to be), energetic and playful, and loves nothing more when tired and chewed-out, to cuddle asleep on my lap, breathing loudly. I certainly can't feel lonely when she's wagging her tail at me from where she is confined behind the baby gate. When I read online about people and their new puppy experiences, she seems about averagely difficult to toilet train, averagely responsive, and averagely hyper-active. It's only because I have no point of comparison and because I've (temporarily, I hope), lost so much, that she tries my patience a little.

I am willing miraculous puppy-training availability for next week (Asha receives her 10-week jabs on Friday after which she is free to mix with other canines), for a little help in how to cope with this black furry handful of an animal. I'm willing to travel ... Scotland?

Meanwhile life goes on around me; the ironing is not done, the laundry from the weekend is still where it was then; I haven't made it to the post office as promised; I've only just managed to do the two small amounts of work that've been pending while my (other) computer has retired with breathing difficulties; but I've very successfully managed to empty the biscuit jar ... on several occasions ... because that's what I do when I'm feeling frustrated and hemmed-in and ineffectual.

Fun fun fun.

Alright so I've left it an incredibly long time again. And that's not to say nothing's happened; last time I wrote the kids were still at school at the end of their Autumn term, and today they've gone back again after a month of Christmas holidays and two additional days of closure due to weather. We've had record quantities of snow and taken advantage on nearby amazing sledging slopes with our boogie boards (we did that last year on Primrose Hill but have now discovered that on proper slopes the boogie boards spin too easily to be adequate sledge replacements, though they are certainly fun if you can handle their unpredictability). Roj has built an amazing ramp in the garden so that the kids can climb up and get a headstart on the small slope that naturally exists. I've hand-sawn through a sizeable chunk of fir tree which came a cropper during the first of the heavy snowfall 2 weeks ago, crashing down and obliterating one of our own small trees. The full extent of garden damage will only become apparent after the thaw; right now we still have a foot or so of more-or-less compacted snow in the garden. Even the lane is not yet clear for traffic, though the larger roads and main roads are much better.

Before the snow was New Year, which passed in characteristically innocuous style in bed before midnight. Even my parents manage to stay up to see the new year in; I don't see why we can't! We watched fabulously entertaining Vicky Cristina Barcelona with the idea of staying up but after it finished couldn't supress our yawning and decided to bottle it. We'll be going to bed before our kids next year!

And before that was Christmas which was momentous in that it was the first ever Christmas that we've hosted. In part due to the recent death of my grandmother, my own mother was liberated to come away from Shropshire, and it didn't feel right to burden her anyway, with a great big family Christmas when we - in our new Surrey home - are now up to the task. It was a very lovely few days which started on the 23rd with the arrival of my parents and - after an epic car journey from north Yorkshire after their house move - my brother and his wife. We enjoyed a bit of a walk (albeit in rain and mud) in the surrounding woodland, and generally just catching up together, and then on the 24th we had a traditional cold Danish meal with way too much Jubileum Aquavit (my dad blamed my over-large glasses; I blamed the over-enthusiastic pourer!) We opened a few gifts and made it Christmas (though spoiled brat Jody was more obsessed with what she hadn't received than what she had), and ushered the kids to bed early enough to preserve their (and our) sanity.

Sven and Charlotte left early on the 25th to get to her parents' house in Lancashire (a year of travelling in a couple of days, seemingly), and I embarked after breakfast on the preparation of my 6 kilo Riverford turkey for lunch (which Nanna also made the journey down for). We had a short period before the meal to open a couple of gifts (to keep the kids quiet more than anything) and then sat down for dinner. The biggest issue for me was that Christmas alcoholism coupled with my normal stress-related insomnia and Miles's cold meant that my taste buds went on holiday on the 25th. I couldn't taste even the merest hint of flavour in anything, which put a dampener on my enjoyment of the meal itself, and also meant I had to enlist my mum and her taste buds to season everything. In fact I certainly couldn't have pulled off the meal without Mum's help but she seemed to think it was a lot less stressful helping than running the show, so was eager to be of assistance.

In fact it was so successful (despite me having to go to bed at 9 o'clock (do you see a pattern developing here!?)) that I really hope we can continue the trend in years to come (maybe Sven and Charlotte will have forgotten the pain in a year's time?) I derived more pleasure hosting than I do in being a guest (and watching the pain!), and thoroughly enjoyed having a house full of people. Plus the novelty factor (which has understandably worn off for Mum and Nanna after more than 30 years each of hosting Christmas) made the whole thing quite exciting; I didn't really know if I could pull it off until the end of Christmas lunch on the 25th, when stomachs were bulging and noises were approving.

It was quite suddenly then, on the 26th, that Nanna and her 2 dogs, and my parents vanished mid-morning leaving us with a rather quiet house and, for the first time in several weeks, little to do! In the lead-up to Christmas I'd been hard at work making curtains to ensure our sitting room wasn't as cold and unwelcoming as it has been, as well as trying to organise myself and the house to receive so many visitors, so I felt like the Christmas preparations had been fairly work-heavy. Fun though; especially embarking into our neighbourhood to find a local farm which sold their own Christmas trees and door wreaths as well as allowing the kids to stroke their reindeer and chickens (an experience rather far removed from our usual Homebase tree trip!)

It seems a long time ago now though, and I suppose the biggest change that's occurred since is our acquisition of my current obsession Asha, our 8-week old flat-coated retriever. I braved the country's snow covering to go and get her last Saturday in Bolsover; a 3-hour journey each way. Once I got there I was quickly ushered into a small room by the breeder who fetched the pup she had designated ours (I still wonder if I should have insisted on seeing the litter, so I could make sure that Asha was equivalent at least, to her peers, but it's too late now and she's such a little sweetheart that I can't imagine a reason I would not have chosen her anyway). I made another error in following the breeder's advice to put Asha in the car while I fetched my money and returned to pay her. The pup was already excited and I knew she'd be traumatised left in a strange car in a strange crate with no dog or human there to support her. So I rushed my payment and a run-through of the final paperwork and finally returned to the car to find Asha, as predicted, going slightly crazy. I reversed up the drive out of sight and then stopped the car and took her out of the crate, trying to ply her with prepared treats and toys to calm her down and get her enthused about her environment. But it became clear nothing was going to work and I thought my best plan of action was probably to just get on with it.

I can't say the return journey was very relaxing, with my little traumatised pup sitting next to me in her crate. But I worked hard at rewarding her tiny moments of relaxation with attention and ignoring her yelping and barking, and she gradually worked out that if she kept calm she'd have a sweeter ride. And by the time we got home to Godalming she was in a much better state and didn't seem too bad, enjoying relaxing her little cheek against my free hand which I was able to shove through the bars in her crate. The kids very carefully and quietly introduced themselves to her, and she was shown the front yard (which would be her sole domain for the next few days), and the back hallway where we'd set up her main crate. She settled quite well, especially considering she'd never been outside before, and was suddenly exposed to the feeling of snow up to her little belly! She showed anxiety only in her inability to fully finish a meal until Monday when I added a tablespoon of tuna to her ProPlan puppy food. I've been adding a small amount of sardines or tuna to each of her 3 daily meals ever since, which means she's been absolutely wolfing them down. I have yet to discover though, whether it's bad for her to have such a lot of fish (there's an issue with mercury in tuna isn't there?), for which enlightenment we will have to wait for her first visit to the vet in 10 days' time.

Having read quite a lot of doggy literature in the leadup, I was fully prepared for a very anxious and noisy puppy on her first night, but she exceeded expectations and spent only a couple of minutes crying every time I went out of sight, before settling quietly into her crate. I went downstairs to let her out at 2am and have done so every night since, believing that encouraging her to keep her area clean early on will facilitate the early completion of toilet training. We're gradually crate-training her too; in the knowledge that it provides a safer environment for her to be left in (pups can obviously damage their environments and themselves if they become bored or anxious). She's coping superbly with reasonable stints with the crate door closed, and it won't be long before I'll attempt to shut her crate door at night as well. At that point - given that dogs have an inbuilt desire not to soil their bed - I will probably see if she can go through the entire night without being let out, and do an early start (5am-ish) instead. I will also open the baby door to the rest of the (uncarpeted) downstairs; allowing her access to the playroom (with its multiple hazardous swallowing material), the dining room and kitchen. It only seems fair that she ought to have access to me as much as she needs; she's clearly missing the society of her littermates, and the breed as a whole is very sociable, so I want to keep her at bay for as little time as possible while also understanding that to expose her to the entire house too early will overstimulate her and perhaps cause anxiety.

For now I'm just concentrating on trying to keep her calm (she has a very exuberant nature), and on general obedience; not play biting, not jumping up, sitting before being given food and before entering the house, responding to the command to come to me, and responding to 'No!', as well as getting her used to wearing a collar. Of course all of these things are meeting with the mixed success you'd expect with a 2-month-old puppy, and I'm not going to worry about it too much until she's more comfortable here and able to respond consistently to basic instruction. The best book we have says that structured training shouldn't start until 3 months anyway and before that, basic obedience and acclimatisation should be the foci. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

So once again the coming weeks hold some unknowns for me. I'd like to get back into regular running (I have my eye on an April marathon), but I need to make sure the pup is comfortable to be left alone for short periods first. For now I'm aiming to get the house in some semblance of order after the holidays, do the tasks I've been unable to do with kids under my feet this last month, and focus on enjoying time with Asha. We're also spending quite a lot of time with houseguests in the early part of this year, which I'm very much looking forward to. And then planning to replace the flooring here and the kitchen units. Plenty to do then, before Easter.

Happy New Year everyone, and thank you for Christmas cards and presents. It's been lovely.

We're getting a dog! We've been thinking about it for a while, but it seemed that plans were put on the back burner. Perhaps it was visiting Ian and Emma and seeing how well their labrador had integrated into their family, and how nice it was to take her out in the woods next to their house. For whatever reason, Roj ordered Choosing the Right Dog For You from Amazon, and when I got back from my couple of days in Shropshire last weekend, he had already turned down the corners of the pages with breeds he was interested in.

Trying to ignore what he'd singled out, I looked through the entire book myself, ruling out breeds which weren't friendly with young children, or who weren't active (we want one that will run with me). My eye was caught by the Tervueren which is one of the most beautiful dogs I've ever seen; quite wolf-like in appearance and possibly in instinct too. And by the whippet and the lurcher, simply because my family had one of the former as I grew up, and I enjoyed its docile temperament so much.

But Roj was drawn to the gun-dogs, his favourite being the flat-coated retriever; the leanest and smallest of the retriever breeds. So we did a bit more research, reading up online about its character traits and its strengths and weaknesses. In the end it was pretty clear that the breed was perfect for us; good at running, full of energy outside but calmer in the house; biddable, happy, kind, optimistic, friendly. Plus we both agree that it's a gorgeous dog; more regal-looking than its golden cousin, and more intelligent.

And then our minds were suddenly made up, and we were looking through the Kennel Club website at available litters and realising that they were few and far between to say the least. 3 available at the current moment, and only one of those with our preferred black bitch puppy. So after some deliberation (mostly considering whether we had the patience to wait another 6 months) we spent the entire day on Saturday trawling up to Chesterfield to look at a litter and after an hour of puppy-handling (they were only 3 weeks old, eyes only just opened, mewling for their mum and unsteadily pottering about the sitting room floor), we paid our deposit and left.

So in early January we're going back to pick it up. We're thinking of names (Pepper is the current favourite although Jody's somewhat put out we're not going to use her own choice - Tinkerbell!), trying to hold back from buying lots of gear for it, and trying to work out where to put its bed and other such logistics. I can't wait!

We're off up to Shropshire again this weekend for my grandmother's funeral. She's going to be cremated and a tree planted in her memory alongside one for her husband who died nearly 30 years ago. A fitting tribute I think and certainly better than a cold plot in a graveyard somewhere.

Meanwhile I'm starting to try and prepare for Christmas, but realising that I need to get most of it done before the kids break up next Wednesday. Not quite sure how I'm going to manage it as there's a lot to do and it'll be the first Christmas I've ever hosted, but I might adhere to Jamie Oliver's theory of trying to get a glass of wine in the hand of each guest within 30 seconds of them crossing the threshold! Not sure if that would work when they arrive just after breakfast! Actually I'm really looking forward to the hosting part of it ... it's just present-shopping that gets me stressed, particularly when certain presents for certain children are out of stock everywhere and Father Christmas has not been provided with suitable alternatives. Agh!

My Mormor. Fiercely determined to hang on to the life she loved until the last second, and with dignity.

I remember years ago, happy days spent with my brother in her Cambridge bungalow where we were allowed to make our own way on the coach. Walking on stilts in the garden, or roller-skating around her local streets; making cakeshops with her potter's clay; taunting ants with bouncy balls. I remember, older, relaxing on her outdoor furniture in the sunshine, indulging in the delicious apple cake she always made in our honour; waking in the morning to the enticing aromas of freshly-baked breakfast rolls and coffee.

Always immaculately presented, with fresh lipstick and haircut, vibrant clothing and chunky jewellery, she would envigorate any social occasion with her entertaining anecdotes and risqué jokes, told in lyrical Danish accent. She loved laughter around her: I have a vivid memory of tears streaming down her cheeks while she mimed to the Laughing Policeman, and who could help but share her enthusiasm? She was never happier than when surrounded by young people and would, I'm sure, have sacrificed every moment of quiet time to fill her living space with chatter and laughter and those who loved her.

Even in her slow decline she faced every moment with intense dignity. I have visited her in hospital ward and nursing home and never have I heard a half word uttered of self-pity. Not one to dwell on hardship she would ask about our lives and live vicariously through our joys and sorrows. Even as she took her last breath in the cold hours of Sunday morning she retained her dignified untouchable beauty. And when there was no more breath, all I wanted to do was shout in desperation "Where are you? Where have you gone?"

Mormor. Unforgettable. Rest in peace.