Jeri J, Thank you for bringing to my attention, a correction in the October 2005 “AEN” supplementary “Rose” List. Should a correction be noted on ARS or my part, the correction will be addressed in a following post. The November post will reflect a correction, removing the name Bevoniensis from the list. As stated in the header, the primary purpose of the “Supplement Rose List” is to compliment the 2005 AEN, by address Corrections / Additions / Deletions a continuing process. Devoniensis is listed in the 2005 AEN, indicating eligibility for Dowager Queen (the reason it was originally included); therefore its removal from the list is in order. Happy Holidays. Ronald Schwerdt

Hello Dear Friends, Yes I haven't been on much....just busy with one thing are another....thought things would maybe slow down when I "retired"...but as I am sure all know that just don't really happen.LOL I have moments when I think...how did I do everything and work!! Last week I did fill in Mon and Wed. at the florist...but Fri. I went in and about 8 got a call from Susan and she said Mom had a fever...I had gone in to give Mom a kiss before I left and thought she felt warm..but often she does feel warm...well to make a long story short I called the doctor and they said for us to take her in to the E.R...we had been having trouble with Mom coughing while we fed her...and finding that even with us giving liquid with thicket her diapers were not wet...we were at the E. R. until 6.30...they ran all kinds of tests...they gave Mom a antiboctic...doctor was so very kind...told us that we had caught it at the beginning but that Mom had started getting sick..said that this was just the beginning and he had talked with Mom's doctor at length...he ordered Hospice. We brought Mom home and Hospice came Sat. to talk with us. My sweet little Dad sat and listen and understood...he said only God knew when it was time for her to go home..but that he wanted her to die at home. We talked about how blessed we are...and cried...we talked about honoring Mom's wishes...and cried...we talked about loving her and enjoying each day we have...and cried...we talked about none of us knowing that we have that next day...and cried...we talked about knowing that when death does comes for any of us that we will be together again with Jesus. We agreed to take each day and not dwell on what is to come....my sister was here with us as we talked with hospice...I think that maybe she has finally realized...for me it is such a comfort to know that Hospice will be here. Mom had a good day today....eating went well...she has been talking....most of it we can't understand but at times we can. She walked around a little with help...I know that we will have good days and bad...Breezy...how true your words of wisdom...we are in His hands and He is faithful...He will sustain us. Your heart hurts...you long for them to not be in pain...with hospice they will help us make sure that Mom will not suffer....please keep us in your prayers. My daughter and family are coming this week-end from Ky...my daughter in Memphis is coming...we will all be together....the house will be full...that will bring joy to Mom and Dad. Bless you all for your prayers and concern....I pray for you also. Nora

Probably a violation of some law, but here it is, in honor of Nora and the rest of us who forget: I Know You I know you. I know you well. It's true I always have a little trouble with your name, but I do know your name. I just don't know it at this moment. We're at a big party. We've kissed hello. We've had a delightful conversation about how we are the two last people on the face of the earth who don't kiss on both cheeks. Now we're having a conversation about how phony all the people are who do kiss on both cheeks. Ha ha ha ha ha ha. You're so charming. If only I could remember your name. It's inexcusable that I don't. You've been to my house for dinner. I tried to read your last book. I know your girlfriend's name, or I almost know it. It's something like Chanelle. Only it's not. Chantelle? That's not it either. Fortunately she isn't here, so I haven't forgotten both of your names. I'm becoming desperate. It's something like Larry. Is it Larry? No, it's not. Jerry? No, it's not. But it ends in a Y. Your last name: three syllables. Starts with a C. Starts with a G? I'm losing my mind. But a miracle occurs: the host is about to toast the guest of honor. Thank God. I can escape to the bar. I will spend the rest of the night scrolling through the alphabet in an attempt to come up with your name. If I fail, there's always Google. If only I could remember what that last book was about. Have We Met? Have we met? I think we've met. But I can't be sure. We were introduced, but I didn't catch your name because it's so noisy at this party. I'm going to assume we know each other, and I'm not going to say, "Nice to meet you." If I say, "Nice to meet you," I know what will happen. You'll say, "We've met." You'll say "We've met" in a sort of aggressive, irritable tone. And you won't even tell me your name so I can recover in some way. So I'm not going to say, "Nice to meet you." I'm going to say, "Nice to see you." I'll have a big smile on my face. I won't look desperate. But what I'll be thinking is, please throw me your name. Please, please, please. Give me a hint. My husband is likely to walk up, and I'll have to introduce you, and I won't be able to, and you'll know that I have no idea who you are even though we probably spent an entire weekend together on a boat in 1984. And even though I have a secret signal with my husband that involves my pinching him very hard on the upper arm, a signal that means, "Throw your name at this person because I have no idea whom I'm talking to," my husband always forgets the secret signal and can't be counted on to respond to my pinching, even when it produces a bruise. I would like to chew my husband out about his forgetfulness on this point, but I'm not exactly in a position to do so since I myself have forgotten (if I ever knew it) the name of the person I'm talking to. Old Friends Old friends? We must be. You're delighted to see me. I'm delighted to see you. But who are you? Oh, my God, you're Jane. I can't believe it. Jane. "Jane! How are you? It's been - how long has it been?" I.,d like to suggest that the reason I didn't recognize you right off the bat is that you've done something to your hair, but you've done nothing to your hair, nothing that would excuse my not recognizing you. What you've actually done is gotten older. I don't believe it. You used to be my age, and now you're much, much, much older than I am. You could be my mother. Unless of course I look as old as you and I don't know it. Which is not possible. Or is it? I'm looking around the room and I notice that everyone in it looks like someone - and when I try to figure out exactly who that someone is, it turns out to be a former version of herself, a thinner version or a healthier version or a pre-plastic-surgery version or a taller version. If this is true of everyone, it must be true of me. Mustn't it? But never mind: you are speaking. "Maggie," you say, "it's been so long." "I'm not Maggie," I say. "Oh, my God," you say, "It's you. I didn't recognize you. You've done something to your hair." Nora Ephron, the author, most recently, of "I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman," is a contributing columnist for The Times.

Congratulations Karen and Joe! Your pictures always prove what a great amabassador you are not just for beautiful Newfoundland and Labrador but for all of Canada. Anne