As a blogger, one thing I didn't anticipate was the tendency for readers of my blog to want to coach me on what I should write about. As far as I'm concerned, a blog (derived from the term web-log) is a personal thing. It is one of the many new forms of sharing and communicating that has arisen out of the internet generation. For the past 17 years, my life has revolved around Ste. Anne's. By blog gives me an opportunity to share those thoughts and experiences (my life) that I feel comfortable sharing. If you want this blog to be an extension of the marketing efforts of the spa, you're really much better to click here to go to the Ste. Anne's web site. If you're going to take offense to my thoughts and experiences, post a comment. Otherwise, welcome to my world. Pictured above is one of my favorite pictures of my mom and dad. We were on holidays together somewhere in Europe probably about 4 years ago. I like this picture because for me, it represents the love that bubbles up out of the years of sharing a life together, the good times and the bad times, the trials and tribulations. This morning, my pastor preached about motherhood. Between his many parish duties, our pastor cares for his 90 year old mother, in his home. I think this qualifies him to preach about motherhood. His advise for today, if I can paraphrase, was to glorify our mothers, whether they are still living or not. I think this is good advice. After attending mass with my mother, I set about to bring water to some of the trees that Debbie and Darlene planted last week. I've been hoping for rain, but it didn't come, so I rigged up a contraption on the back of my truck to bring water to the trees that are scattered over 500 acres. The little seedlings look so vulnerable as they hope against all odds to put down strong new roots while being crowded out by long grass and weeds. I found myself developing a strange empathy for these little sprouts; although I'm not sure how much of a difference my 30 seconds of water (and just a taste of Miracle Grow for good measure) will make in their lives. Like the mothers of the world, I suppose all I can do now is hope for the best, or as Debbie says as she digs another one into the ground with her spade, "grow you little bastard, grow!" Love and respect to all the mothers of the world!