buster_medow

I read a book some years ago, it was a fantasy. There was a female character in it named Harp, she was only a minor character. I know its not a lot to go on but I would like to know the name of the book.

I did a system update last week, now I cant access the PS3 store, I have reset my internet connection and also did a system restore without any luck. Im from Australia.

Please help

I have just joined a gym and I am new to working out, I want to gain lean muscle mass ( don't want to be all bulky ) as I am already lean, I was wondering what types of supplements are the best, carbs or protein. I have already bought some creatine powder.

Many thanks

I own a 9 moth old cat, while he is mostly indoors and is litter trained, i want him to stop pooping outdoors in my flower beds and digging up the mulch, has anyone had any luck with outdoor sand/ litter boxes? I dont want to have to put deterent plants down, would rather confine his toilet habbits to one spot.

thanks

Hello all

I am new to this forum,. Please forgive me if I jump all over the place trying to explain what’s going on. I’m a 34 year old male, fairly fit and normally happy.

Four weeks ago I woke up not feeling to good, as the day went on I felt worse, started getting cold sweats, nausea, feeling dizzy and a little anxious, came home from work and slept most of the day, woke up the next day feeling no better, dragged my self to doctor, who is normally fairly good, he just said im a little run down, That night I woke up covered in sweat and vomiting, managed to get a little sleep, woke up feeling like hell, feet freezing cold, body trembling, hand tremors( which I have always had but not as bad ) very nervous and anxious feeling, tightness in chest.

I went to see a different doctor who could not have been nicer, had a blood test done. TSH Level was 0.35 T3 and T4 normal, my anti thyroidal peroxidase antibody was high at 70U/L He also said that my white cell count was high, not sure if that is mentioned in the figures I just mentioned.he did an anxiety test it did come in a littler high but nothing serious, he gave my some anti- anxiety tablets, but told me it could be from my thyroid not being normal.

I booked in to see a Endocrinologist she said I have signs of a hyperthyroid but at a low level, there might be something else wrong, she took more blood tests and did general tests, now awaiting the results.

I should also mention that my mother had a thyroidectomy some years ago.

Anybody else have similar symptoms, one minute I will be fine and then the next I get all nauseated, cold sweat. Insomnia, waking up to early, hard to get going in the mornings, agitation, cold feet, concentration is hard some times, I have had these symptoms over the years on and off, but not this regular.

Any help would be greatly appreciated

I have been taking escitalopram 20mg for anxiety for four days now, been having anxiety attacks on and off for about two months, today i felt allot better, still not 100% and was wondering if it works that fast? i have been doing breathing exercises and thinking positive also. it says it can take two weeks for the affects to be noticeable, so im not sure if it is the tablets after only four days?

i have been taking escitalopram 20mg for four days now for anxiety attacks i have been having , today i feel better, i was wondering if it works that fast or not. I have been doing possitive thinking and meditation also.

OK i know this is a little redundant seeking medical help online but for the past week or two i have been having episodes of sadness, not a deep sadness just feeling down and a little hopeless, it come and goes but when it does i get cold shakes and nauseated , i have seen my G.P he took a blood test and recommend i see a shrink, just wondering if anybody else has had the same problem. BTW i am a 35 year old male, fit and normally happy.

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn. The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and past times. A man not much younger than I am walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids; as she passes, the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes, yet they cannot hide a small amount of jealousy.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliche of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shining on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn. The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and past times. A man not much younger than I am walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids; as she passes, the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes, yet they cannot hide a small amount of jealousy.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliche of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shining on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

I have a Xperia X10 touch , i have pics i need to save from a KIK conversation ( friends wedding ) i do the long press on the image put it wont open or save, just goes to a " share with " menu. even when i do a single touch and open the pic it still wont save. please help

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn. The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and past times. A man not much younger than I am walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids; as she passes, the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes, yet they cannot hide a small amount of jealousy.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliché of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shining on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

I have a George Forman Grill, and sometimes for some reason when i use it, it trips out the power to my house. I can use other appliances from the same power socket and they all work fine, even tried it in other power outlets and the same thing happens. Any ideas? Im thinking that I have a faulty one

I want to save my itunes folder by putting it onto a external hard drive while i restore my computer, however i have done this before and when i imported the songs back i had the "unknown album" on allot of songs, even though they were correct before the import. Any ideas on how to fix this. Also in my itunes i have all the artwork showing correctly, but when i go to the sub-folder in the itunes library folder it only shows the itunes icon where the album art should be, any help would be great

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn. The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and pass times. A man not much younger than I am, walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids, as she passes the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes, yet they cannot hide a small amount of jealousy.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliché of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shinning on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

Just listening to the radio and they were playing Teardrop by Massive Attack cool song, but I seem to remember a male artist doing a cover of it, it had a very indie sound to it, and sort of remember the video clip of him playing guitar, this may have been an Australian only release, does anyone have an idea of who this artist is as I would like to listen to it again.

Cheers

Saw it along time ago and all I remember is one scene where an old man dresses up in his old military uniform with medals, puts a plastic bag over his head and commits suicide. I remember it being very sad.

Plese help

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn.The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and pass times. A man not much younger than I am, walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids, as she passes the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliche of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shinning on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn.The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and pass times. A man not much younger than I am, walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids, as she passes the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliche of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shinning on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.

THOUGHTS IN SPRING

It is a normal spring day and I decide to have my lunch break in the local park. I sit on a bench under the shade of a tree with the wind blowing through the leaves, causing shadows to dance on the manicured lawn.The weather is good; warm enough for summer clothes, yet not hot enough to complain about. Flower beds adorn the park, hibiscus, chrysanthemum, azaleas and more, a patchwork quilt of flora.

The park is a hive of activity today, an assortment of people, professions and pass times. A man not much younger than I am, walks past me in his well pressed business suit, talking on his mobile phone a little too loudly trying to sound important to those in earshot, or trying to sound important to himself.

An elderly couple are sitting on a picnic blanket on the lawn, their silver hair shining in the afternoon Sun. Homemade sandwiches and cakes in brown paper bags, their faces are content but their eyes tell a different story, for after a life time of love, sharing and companionship; should one of them pass, the other would be truly alone.

A young female runner jogs past them, her toned body a billboard for her generation. Her even strides cushioned by the latest running shoes and designer sunglasses to block out the Sun. Tight fitting running clothes worn to enhance her performance and to leave those who look at her envious, an object of their sexual desire and manufactured jealousy. She runs past a group of teenage school kids, as she passes the boys mimic the bounce of her breasts with their hands, much to the annoyance of the girls, who roll their eyes.

A young couple with smiles on their faces, walk past hand in hand. They watch their young toddler kick a bright orange ball, he squeals with delight, his rosy cheeks and innocent eyes oblivious to the hardships he will one day face but for now, he is content with sugar coated treats and colourful images on the T. V.

The park, the people the scenarios all of them a postcard, a cliche of modern thought and actions.

A small bird grabs my attention, a sparrow I think. He is doing a little hop type of dance in front of a clump of bushes; he darts into them, coming out with a small bug in his beak and flies up into a tree. He returns moments later to do the same thing again. The more I watch his antics the more I wonder about him. I wonder if he is feeding his young and is it just instinct that drives him to do this, or is it parental love. Will he get frustrated if he cannot get enough food? Will his little heart swell with pride when his young take flight for the first time? Does he know of love? Does his heart skip a beat when he sees his mate? Will it break if one day she does not return? Does he know of fear? Will he cower in the treetops when a storm comes crashing down upon him? Does he know of racism? Do other birds treat him unkindly because he is not the same breed as they? Does he know of joy? Will he sing that little bit louder when the Sun is shinning on a clear day? Does he know of God and creation? Is he aware of me, as I am of him and does he know of man, or war and death? If he is aware of all of these then I feel sorry for him, for why should he suffer the folly of man and yet, if he is not aware, I am equally sorry for him; for the wonder of life is a thing to behold and the joy and sorrow it brings is a thing to be shared by all.