adventure in the land of the long white cloud
We are bursting with excitement and expectation. The captain has just announced that we will be on the ground in Auckland in thirty minutes. I check my watch. We had lost one day when we crossed the International dateline. It has been more than twelve years since we first set foot on the ‘Land of the Long White Cloud,’ and if this holiday turns out to be anything like the first, we will be in for the time of our lives. Customs and Immigration clearance is a breeze; something we are not used to in North America. So with our Duty Free purchases and our carts loaded with luggage we proceed to the exit anxious to see our hosts Bruce and Judy whom we call Queenie. Don’t ask why we have given her that name. It should be self explanatory. We immediately spot Bruce as we pass through the sliding glass doors and as soon as he sees us, a smile plasters itself across his face. He is indeed happy to see us, but Queenie is nowhere in sight. We later learn that she is still at home in bed.
It is six o’clock in the morning and still quite dark. A light rain mists the area which makes it very refreshing after our fourteen hour journey in the Boeing 777 sardine can. We load ourselves and our baggage into the Jeep and non-stop chatter continues as we cross over the Auckland Bridge, a smaller replica of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, on the way to their home on the North Shore of the city. The children Kristy and Lori along with Queenie are still asleep, but we burst onto the scene with such effervescence, that it brings the sleeping household to life. Lots more chatter! We have no idea where to start and where to end. There is so much to talk about. There is no time for sleep. Bruce is a little sad because he will be missing out on the gossip since he has to get out there to earn his daily bread.
Queenie announces later that a friend has invited us on Sunday for a Braii or do they say Grill or BBQ? Anyway we have just arrived and plans have already been made for us to socialise, but first there is a quick trip to the supermarket to buy that wonderful bread and cheese New Zealand is famous for.
**
Feijoas, kiwi and guava fruit nestle comfortably between the rose and hibiscus bushes which are all in full bloom. What is a feijoa? It’s a fruit shaped like a kiwi without the furry bits. It has the consistency of a guava and the taste? Well there is nothing with which to compare it, but for me it was love at first bite. The feijoa became my friend. It moved with me every day making me feel cleansed and full of vigour. I have digressed!
It is Sunday afternoon and we have arrived at Linda Gair’s home. The Grill party has started. Her many objects of art adorn every corner of the garden landscape. Amphorae stand high in tiny rocky outcrops, colourful bowls and hands formed in the shapes of outstretched receptacles seem ready to collect the tiniest drops of moisture which may fall from the sky, but that will not happen today for the Gods have smiled down and handed us a picture perfect evening. It is five o’clock and the sky is a lovely shade of blue. Some of us are inside the home but some of us sit outside imbibing on red wine and drinking in the atmosphere, while Bruce works his magic with the chicken wings on the grill. A Tui or parson’s bird (because of its pastor-like appearance) flies down and pecks away on the tiny red-skinned guavas. Someone pulls out a camera and takes a photo of the bird.
Linda calls out. We have been invited to the dining room and take our places at the table. Every inch of the wall space is covered with beautiful paintings and the table adorned with antiques and antiquities. Did I say that Linda is an artist? She knows in which part of the world she has picked up every single little object, even the smallest pebble. In spite of the amount of wine I had consumed, I remember vividly the wooden bowl in which the chicken wings were served. It resembled an old Indian canoe, with thongs leaning to the side and giving one the impression it would row itself away at any minute, chicken wings and all. Linda was not just a lot of fun she was loads and loads of fun. She regaled us with stories of her travels and I realised how long it had been since I laughed until my cheeks hurt. She thanked us over and over again for not just coming to her home, but for crashing into her world. She was unpretentious and showed us the real meaning of Kiwi hospitality.
All good things must come to end and we drove home rehashing the stories which she had told us earlier, each of us choosing our favourite. My favourite was the party for one, when the police were called and appeared at her door around two in the morning.
**
How quickly times flies! After a week of tramping around the beautiful malls and shops of Auckland, we are now ready to for our trek to the north. The Clampetts (that’s what we called ourselves) eight of us, are sitting comfortably in a passenger van waiting for take off. There is Linus and Stanley, Queenie and Bruce, Alison, David, Wolfgang and I, along with pillows, blankets, food and lots of it, packed into the Chilly Bin. That’s what we call an ice box in North America. We are on our way to Colville on the Coromandel Peninsula with short stops in Katikati, Hamilton and Matamata. We would spend one night in Tauranga and the following day head north in the direction of the Coromandel Peninsula, but alas we are forced to change our plans because flooding has wiped out some of the roads in the south. We decide to make a quick stop in Hamilton to visit Queenie’s brother Tony and his wife Fiona where we are invited to lunch at their farm. Back on the road and on our way to Colville, we pass through towns with strange names like Paeroa, Te Aroha, Waihi, and Arataki, each one offering a more spectacular view than the other.
It has started to rain but we can still admire the dormant volcanoes on the way, which are overgrown with trees, brush and thicket. We make our first pit stop in the town of Thames. Refreshments, bathrooms all out of the way, we continue our journey driving up hills and descending into valleys. More hills, more valleys! Two hours of hairpin turns and more deep valleys along the way. It is dark and we can see nothing except the eyes of the occasional possum out foraging. Finally we reach Colville and the home where Bruce’s parents lived. I can’t quite recall what we did that evening, but we had a good night’s sleep and waited impatiently for the sunrise. At the first sign of dawn, I opened our bedroom curtains and looked straight into the jaws of the Bay of Colville. Oyster catchers and stilts lined the beach enjoying their early morning breakfast. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. On the back porch pukekos or swamp hens searched the grass for the next meal. Bunnies sat in the sun with their young and cows roam the fields leaving their cakes behind them, while goats wandered up the hills, their kids obediently following them. My eyes follow the hillside, perhaps the remnants of a volcano! I would love to climb that hill, but I know my knees won’t allow it, so after a sumptuous breakfast, filled with chatter, we cross the street and walk out onto the mud flats, searching for any bit of treasure the tide might have left behind.
Bruce sees one of the villagers whom he greets and chats with for a while. His name is Trevor and his vehicle of choice looks like a cross between a riding lawn mower and a golf cart without a cover. Beside him is his trusty weapon which he says he uses on the undesirables. I take it that he means possums and such feral creatures. We decide to have lunch at the village shop/cafe where we meet Trevor’s wife, a dainty lady named Colleen who rode in on her bicycle. She was the sweetest soul one could ever meet. After each introduction, she said ‘Hello’, with a voice dripping with honey.
We wait patiently night after night for the tide to go out, so that we can go floundering (catching the flounder that lay hidden in the sand) but the tides were always against us, so I did not get the chance to wear my brand new floundering shoes.
Day two in Colville and with the exception of David and Queenie, we set out on a sightseeing tour up the hills and down the hills of the winding coastline. The scenery is breathtaking. There are more pukekos along the roadside with their young foraging in the grass. We pass through towns with names like Whanganui, Whitianga and Matarangi. In the latter we visit another Wallace friend named Linny at her batch or holiday home. Luckily for us, she had to make an unexpected trip to the home, but she should have been in Auckland. She was most welcoming and extremely friendly. Linus and I sprawled out on the front deck while the others went in search of the beach. We have lunch in Whitianga and then travel back to Coromandel where we pick up groceries and make our early afternoon ablutions. Then it was back to Colville where we had dinner and played card games like Trivial Pursuit and Skipbo. Queenie made sure that our brains didn’t go soft, with the constant use of her daily crossword puzzle.
“I am looking for a five letter word which means annoyed. It is C, something, O, something, something,’’ she shouted constantly. Linus and Alison were the fastest with me bringing up second place. The men simply ignored us and our word games.
Day three and Queenie decided we should go on a picnic. We travel even farther north of Colville along roads with barely enough room for one vehicle. Such fun it was. We laid our lunch out, sat on the rocky beach and enjoyed the view. We gathered shells, climbed trees or just lazed on the beach, with Bruce telling us the history of the region. We never did quite make it to Port Jackson in spite of the fact that I kept pushing Bruce to continue, with Queenie threatening to throw me out of the van.
The rest of the time was spent reading or lazing around or hilariously watching Bruce on his driving lawn mower. His body banked left when the mower turned left and right when the mower turned right. Small minds I guess. It didn’t take too much to amuse us. We were also entertained by David and his countless schizophrenic characters. My favourite was the Sicko with the southern drawl and the weird smile who had a penchant for young girls.
Did we enjoy being on the Coromandel Peninsula? We certainly did! And was there anything we disliked about being there? Yes, we hated those helicopters that flew in and dive bombed us, the moment we opened the door! Blow flies! It is time to pack up and go. We stop in Katikati to visit Queenie’s niece Jen and her husband. They own an avocado and kiwi farm, but unfortunately, the avocados are not yet ripe for the picking. Back on the road and we are now on our way to Tauranga. The name says it all. Use your imagination and Tauranga will present itself before your eyes. A seaside town sitting on a peninsula on the east coast of the North Island facing the South Pacific Ocean!
We spend the night there and meet up with Trish, a long time friend of the Wallaces. We set out for dinner, passing cafes and restaurants which line the waterfront and ironically end up going to dinner at a restaurant called Lonestar. I knew I wasn’t in Texas! However the menu items were simply delicious. Did I mention Bruce was doing all the driving? And a good job he did! The following morning we set out for Mount Maunganui, another picture post card town, where we would breakfast before heading towards Hamilton.
Around midday we arrive in Hamilton, where Tony meets us at a street junction in his old, fire red Austin car from 1936. How times have changed! The indicator is an illuminated piece of plastic which flips out on the outside between the front and back seat, indicating the direction he wants to turn. The luggage shelf was on the outside at the back of the vehicle, and yes, I had a chance to drive in it. It was hysterical. Whenever he drove off, I swore I was going to have whiplash. It was just a novelty, but it was loads of fun. Thanks again to Fiona and Katy who prepared a delicious lunch for us.
We’re now on our way back to Auckland, leaving David behind in Hamilton. We are all tired and just want to have a good night’s rest. Kristy was happy to see us back home. She related everything that had happened since we left one week earlier, including her friend Harry’s misfortune of being locked in Stanley’s and Linus’ bathroom and having to squeeze his way to freedom through the tiny bathroom window. When I saw the window, I knew that if I had been in Harry’s place, they would’ve needed a tow truck to free me.
Bruce, Wolfgang and I set out for the Gannet colony in Muriwai. It’s a part of Auckland we had never seen. There were beaches and vacation homes along the way to Muriwai. Arriving there, we looked up at some of the homes which hung precariously on the cliff. Some of these homes, I’m sure I had seen on the television show, Extreme Homes. Walking down a few steps, we knew we were close to the colony, because we could smell it. Finally we finally we saw the Gannets flying back and forth feeding their young or flying out to fish. It was indeed a beautiful sight.
Thursday night and we travel into the city to have dinner at the restaurant De Fontein, where Lori, Bruce and Judy’s younger daughter works in the evenings. We drive along the waterfront and could only gaze at the exclusive condominiums which are situated directly on the water and where residents just take the elevators downstairs to board their cruise ships.
The restaurant is in a chic part of town. We climbed to the second floor! It serves sumptuous and delicious meals and even serves big steins of German beer, something which Wolfgang relished. We met Donna Veira there, a name I had heard so many times. A very sophisticated lady!
Three and a half weeks are almost over. We could’ve spent one week more there. We will miss the evening rum cocktails. We will miss Queenie and Bruce and their shenanigans. Just the thought of having to board Air New Zealand for the return trip is setting off the vapours. I take the opportunity and use this week to prepare some Bajan dishes for Queenie’s brother Wayne fondly known as Annie. He had been extremely nice to us on our first trip and had driven us all the way to Pahia where we spent six days. And as the Bajan expression goes, life is a bitch. Wayne suffered a stroke in 2011 leaving him with minimal body function. I noticed that his mind is even sharper than before his illness, but the body does not cooperate with the mind. Schade!!
It’s Saturday, the day before our departure, and as always in the Wallace home, there are visitors coming and going. Today Queenie has planned a little get together with all the people we met on our holiday. Robin with her wicked sense of humour, Tracy (Alison’s daughter) and her fiancé Malcolm, Linny and her daughter Anna! In short the house is full of laughter and comings and goings.
**
Our bags are packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Queenie’s eyes are filled with tears. Linus’ eyes are also filled with tears. We wave goodbye to Number 3 Edgeworth Road and are on our way to the airport. I hate airports. They represent sadness, loss, confusion and restrictions. Bruce waits while we check in and then accompanies us upstairs where we snack on Nachos before saying goodbye. We will miss The Wallaces. The only thing missing from Bruce is his halo, and Judy, what can we say about her? Altes Suppenhuhn! Zimt Ziege! She is really a softie, but pretends to be tough. She is as mad as they come, but she is still my BFF.
Another wonderful holiday is behind us. We hope that the Wallaces have enjoyed our company, as much we enjoyed theirs. We miss them both very much. Thank you Bruce and Judy, and thanks to Kristy and Lori for allowing us to crash into your world.
It is six o’clock in the morning and still quite dark. A light rain mists the area which makes it very refreshing after our fourteen hour journey in the Boeing 777 sardine can. We load ourselves and our baggage into the Jeep and non-stop chatter continues as we cross over the Auckland Bridge, a smaller replica of the Sydney Harbour Bridge, on the way to their home on the North Shore of the city. The children Kristy and Lori along with Queenie are still asleep, but we burst onto the scene with such effervescence, that it brings the sleeping household to life. Lots more chatter! We have no idea where to start and where to end. There is so much to talk about. There is no time for sleep. Bruce is a little sad because he will be missing out on the gossip since he has to get out there to earn his daily bread.
Queenie announces later that a friend has invited us on Sunday for a Braii or do they say Grill or BBQ? Anyway we have just arrived and plans have already been made for us to socialise, but first there is a quick trip to the supermarket to buy that wonderful bread and cheese New Zealand is famous for.
**
Feijoas, kiwi and guava fruit nestle comfortably between the rose and hibiscus bushes which are all in full bloom. What is a feijoa? It’s a fruit shaped like a kiwi without the furry bits. It has the consistency of a guava and the taste? Well there is nothing with which to compare it, but for me it was love at first bite. The feijoa became my friend. It moved with me every day making me feel cleansed and full of vigour. I have digressed!
It is Sunday afternoon and we have arrived at Linda Gair’s home. The Grill party has started. Her many objects of art adorn every corner of the garden landscape. Amphorae stand high in tiny rocky outcrops, colourful bowls and hands formed in the shapes of outstretched receptacles seem ready to collect the tiniest drops of moisture which may fall from the sky, but that will not happen today for the Gods have smiled down and handed us a picture perfect evening. It is five o’clock and the sky is a lovely shade of blue. Some of us are inside the home but some of us sit outside imbibing on red wine and drinking in the atmosphere, while Bruce works his magic with the chicken wings on the grill. A Tui or parson’s bird (because of its pastor-like appearance) flies down and pecks away on the tiny red-skinned guavas. Someone pulls out a camera and takes a photo of the bird.
Linda calls out. We have been invited to the dining room and take our places at the table. Every inch of the wall space is covered with beautiful paintings and the table adorned with antiques and antiquities. Did I say that Linda is an artist? She knows in which part of the world she has picked up every single little object, even the smallest pebble. In spite of the amount of wine I had consumed, I remember vividly the wooden bowl in which the chicken wings were served. It resembled an old Indian canoe, with thongs leaning to the side and giving one the impression it would row itself away at any minute, chicken wings and all. Linda was not just a lot of fun she was loads and loads of fun. She regaled us with stories of her travels and I realised how long it had been since I laughed until my cheeks hurt. She thanked us over and over again for not just coming to her home, but for crashing into her world. She was unpretentious and showed us the real meaning of Kiwi hospitality.
All good things must come to end and we drove home rehashing the stories which she had told us earlier, each of us choosing our favourite. My favourite was the party for one, when the police were called and appeared at her door around two in the morning.
**
How quickly times flies! After a week of tramping around the beautiful malls and shops of Auckland, we are now ready to for our trek to the north. The Clampetts (that’s what we called ourselves) eight of us, are sitting comfortably in a passenger van waiting for take off. There is Linus and Stanley, Queenie and Bruce, Alison, David, Wolfgang and I, along with pillows, blankets, food and lots of it, packed into the Chilly Bin. That’s what we call an ice box in North America. We are on our way to Colville on the Coromandel Peninsula with short stops in Katikati, Hamilton and Matamata. We would spend one night in Tauranga and the following day head north in the direction of the Coromandel Peninsula, but alas we are forced to change our plans because flooding has wiped out some of the roads in the south. We decide to make a quick stop in Hamilton to visit Queenie’s brother Tony and his wife Fiona where we are invited to lunch at their farm. Back on the road and on our way to Colville, we pass through towns with strange names like Paeroa, Te Aroha, Waihi, and Arataki, each one offering a more spectacular view than the other.
It has started to rain but we can still admire the dormant volcanoes on the way, which are overgrown with trees, brush and thicket. We make our first pit stop in the town of Thames. Refreshments, bathrooms all out of the way, we continue our journey driving up hills and descending into valleys. More hills, more valleys! Two hours of hairpin turns and more deep valleys along the way. It is dark and we can see nothing except the eyes of the occasional possum out foraging. Finally we reach Colville and the home where Bruce’s parents lived. I can’t quite recall what we did that evening, but we had a good night’s sleep and waited impatiently for the sunrise. At the first sign of dawn, I opened our bedroom curtains and looked straight into the jaws of the Bay of Colville. Oyster catchers and stilts lined the beach enjoying their early morning breakfast. I thought I had died and gone to heaven. On the back porch pukekos or swamp hens searched the grass for the next meal. Bunnies sat in the sun with their young and cows roam the fields leaving their cakes behind them, while goats wandered up the hills, their kids obediently following them. My eyes follow the hillside, perhaps the remnants of a volcano! I would love to climb that hill, but I know my knees won’t allow it, so after a sumptuous breakfast, filled with chatter, we cross the street and walk out onto the mud flats, searching for any bit of treasure the tide might have left behind.
Bruce sees one of the villagers whom he greets and chats with for a while. His name is Trevor and his vehicle of choice looks like a cross between a riding lawn mower and a golf cart without a cover. Beside him is his trusty weapon which he says he uses on the undesirables. I take it that he means possums and such feral creatures. We decide to have lunch at the village shop/cafe where we meet Trevor’s wife, a dainty lady named Colleen who rode in on her bicycle. She was the sweetest soul one could ever meet. After each introduction, she said ‘Hello’, with a voice dripping with honey.
We wait patiently night after night for the tide to go out, so that we can go floundering (catching the flounder that lay hidden in the sand) but the tides were always against us, so I did not get the chance to wear my brand new floundering shoes.
Day two in Colville and with the exception of David and Queenie, we set out on a sightseeing tour up the hills and down the hills of the winding coastline. The scenery is breathtaking. There are more pukekos along the roadside with their young foraging in the grass. We pass through towns with names like Whanganui, Whitianga and Matarangi. In the latter we visit another Wallace friend named Linny at her batch or holiday home. Luckily for us, she had to make an unexpected trip to the home, but she should have been in Auckland. She was most welcoming and extremely friendly. Linus and I sprawled out on the front deck while the others went in search of the beach. We have lunch in Whitianga and then travel back to Coromandel where we pick up groceries and make our early afternoon ablutions. Then it was back to Colville where we had dinner and played card games like Trivial Pursuit and Skipbo. Queenie made sure that our brains didn’t go soft, with the constant use of her daily crossword puzzle.
“I am looking for a five letter word which means annoyed. It is C, something, O, something, something,’’ she shouted constantly. Linus and Alison were the fastest with me bringing up second place. The men simply ignored us and our word games.
Day three and Queenie decided we should go on a picnic. We travel even farther north of Colville along roads with barely enough room for one vehicle. Such fun it was. We laid our lunch out, sat on the rocky beach and enjoyed the view. We gathered shells, climbed trees or just lazed on the beach, with Bruce telling us the history of the region. We never did quite make it to Port Jackson in spite of the fact that I kept pushing Bruce to continue, with Queenie threatening to throw me out of the van.
The rest of the time was spent reading or lazing around or hilariously watching Bruce on his driving lawn mower. His body banked left when the mower turned left and right when the mower turned right. Small minds I guess. It didn’t take too much to amuse us. We were also entertained by David and his countless schizophrenic characters. My favourite was the Sicko with the southern drawl and the weird smile who had a penchant for young girls.
Did we enjoy being on the Coromandel Peninsula? We certainly did! And was there anything we disliked about being there? Yes, we hated those helicopters that flew in and dive bombed us, the moment we opened the door! Blow flies! It is time to pack up and go. We stop in Katikati to visit Queenie’s niece Jen and her husband. They own an avocado and kiwi farm, but unfortunately, the avocados are not yet ripe for the picking. Back on the road and we are now on our way to Tauranga. The name says it all. Use your imagination and Tauranga will present itself before your eyes. A seaside town sitting on a peninsula on the east coast of the North Island facing the South Pacific Ocean!
We spend the night there and meet up with Trish, a long time friend of the Wallaces. We set out for dinner, passing cafes and restaurants which line the waterfront and ironically end up going to dinner at a restaurant called Lonestar. I knew I wasn’t in Texas! However the menu items were simply delicious. Did I mention Bruce was doing all the driving? And a good job he did! The following morning we set out for Mount Maunganui, another picture post card town, where we would breakfast before heading towards Hamilton.
Around midday we arrive in Hamilton, where Tony meets us at a street junction in his old, fire red Austin car from 1936. How times have changed! The indicator is an illuminated piece of plastic which flips out on the outside between the front and back seat, indicating the direction he wants to turn. The luggage shelf was on the outside at the back of the vehicle, and yes, I had a chance to drive in it. It was hysterical. Whenever he drove off, I swore I was going to have whiplash. It was just a novelty, but it was loads of fun. Thanks again to Fiona and Katy who prepared a delicious lunch for us.
We’re now on our way back to Auckland, leaving David behind in Hamilton. We are all tired and just want to have a good night’s rest. Kristy was happy to see us back home. She related everything that had happened since we left one week earlier, including her friend Harry’s misfortune of being locked in Stanley’s and Linus’ bathroom and having to squeeze his way to freedom through the tiny bathroom window. When I saw the window, I knew that if I had been in Harry’s place, they would’ve needed a tow truck to free me.
Bruce, Wolfgang and I set out for the Gannet colony in Muriwai. It’s a part of Auckland we had never seen. There were beaches and vacation homes along the way to Muriwai. Arriving there, we looked up at some of the homes which hung precariously on the cliff. Some of these homes, I’m sure I had seen on the television show, Extreme Homes. Walking down a few steps, we knew we were close to the colony, because we could smell it. Finally we finally we saw the Gannets flying back and forth feeding their young or flying out to fish. It was indeed a beautiful sight.
Thursday night and we travel into the city to have dinner at the restaurant De Fontein, where Lori, Bruce and Judy’s younger daughter works in the evenings. We drive along the waterfront and could only gaze at the exclusive condominiums which are situated directly on the water and where residents just take the elevators downstairs to board their cruise ships.
The restaurant is in a chic part of town. We climbed to the second floor! It serves sumptuous and delicious meals and even serves big steins of German beer, something which Wolfgang relished. We met Donna Veira there, a name I had heard so many times. A very sophisticated lady!
Three and a half weeks are almost over. We could’ve spent one week more there. We will miss the evening rum cocktails. We will miss Queenie and Bruce and their shenanigans. Just the thought of having to board Air New Zealand for the return trip is setting off the vapours. I take the opportunity and use this week to prepare some Bajan dishes for Queenie’s brother Wayne fondly known as Annie. He had been extremely nice to us on our first trip and had driven us all the way to Pahia where we spent six days. And as the Bajan expression goes, life is a bitch. Wayne suffered a stroke in 2011 leaving him with minimal body function. I noticed that his mind is even sharper than before his illness, but the body does not cooperate with the mind. Schade!!
It’s Saturday, the day before our departure, and as always in the Wallace home, there are visitors coming and going. Today Queenie has planned a little get together with all the people we met on our holiday. Robin with her wicked sense of humour, Tracy (Alison’s daughter) and her fiancé Malcolm, Linny and her daughter Anna! In short the house is full of laughter and comings and goings.
**
Our bags are packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Queenie’s eyes are filled with tears. Linus’ eyes are also filled with tears. We wave goodbye to Number 3 Edgeworth Road and are on our way to the airport. I hate airports. They represent sadness, loss, confusion and restrictions. Bruce waits while we check in and then accompanies us upstairs where we snack on Nachos before saying goodbye. We will miss The Wallaces. The only thing missing from Bruce is his halo, and Judy, what can we say about her? Altes Suppenhuhn! Zimt Ziege! She is really a softie, but pretends to be tough. She is as mad as they come, but she is still my BFF.
Another wonderful holiday is behind us. We hope that the Wallaces have enjoyed our company, as much we enjoyed theirs. We miss them both very much. Thank you Bruce and Judy, and thanks to Kristy and Lori for allowing us to crash into your world.
