Just a Quickie.........

Minds out of the gutter people! I have this feeling of happiness today that has taken me by surprise. I think I know why. Let's start at the beginning. I hate folding laundry. No, really. I hate it with the heat of a thousand suns. The laundry, it just never stops coming. You get it all done and then guess what? More, exponentially more. And fiddly too with all the wee socks I have match up.

I opened our laundry shoot (yes we have a laundry shoot I totally love it) and what did I find in the laundry cupboard? A MOUNTAIN of laundry. I felt so overwhelmed. I pictured myself folding every evening all week long. So guess what I did? I stuffed the laundry in two garbage bags and dropped it at the wash and fold on my way to work. It only costs a dollar a pound too. In fact I might be saving money in terms of water, electricity and detergent. Also I will have free time to do stuff other than laundry. Oh, I don't know, stuff like play "my little pony" or yet another round of Monopoly Jr. Still better than laundry.

I guess this is why I'm so happy. If someone told me when I was seventeen that having the laundry done would make me so giddy I would never have believed it. But I am. Next - how to get the toys to magically put themselves away at night!

Coming Clean.

Yes, let’s clear the air. I have a confession to make. Brace yourselves people. You all know I love my husband dearly. Well I have to come clean and admit I am also in love with another man. Yes it’s true. As hard as it is to make this admission I must do it. Please know that Alan is aware of this and has agreed that I can officially make this public so we can somehow work through this. The name of the man I am in love with is – Dr. Oetker. Now this name might ring a bell with some of you especially if you have been to a Loblaws or “Metro” (how dumb is the new name for Dominion?) lately. Dr. Oetker is not living anymore but his products live on. It turns out he wasn’t even a real doctor but actually a scientist who came up with some special type of yeast for bread products. Yes I am in love with a dead German man who said he was a doctor but really wasn’t. I also don’t really care that he wasn’t particularly hot either. Well, maybe he was hot in the turn of the century kind of way but it doesn’t really appeal to me. You see my darling Dr. Oetker created these pizzas. I still remember the day. About two Christmases ago I was at a house party and they were passing around snacks and on one tray were these small pizza slices. They were thin crusted with only tomato sauce, cheese and little pesto. It doesn’t sound that great does it? After one bite I was a goner. I immediately ran to the hostess demanding to know where this slice of heaven could be found. Dr. Oetker my angel pizza man made them and from there the romance began. The pizza’s themselves are much smaller that the regular frozen pizza’s like Delissioso so they are really only big enough for one adult or two children. I must always have at least one in our freezer or I become jittery. Alan generally is out two nights a week so those are Mama’s Dr. Oetker nights. (Please don’t call on Tue or Thur btwn 8:30 and 9:00 as I am having my “alone time” with Dr. Oetker). I actually wait until the children are in bed so I may have total peace whilst I am enjoying my secret pleasure. Yes for some women it is chocolate but for me it is Dr. Oetker. Go try them – and then thank me. Thank you Alan for being so understanding.

And now for something more seasonal:

Fourteen Serious Questions Raised By” Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer"

1.) WHY IS SANTA SUCH A COMPLETE BASTARD?

I'm going to say he has a chemical disorder, probably Bipolar. The elves sing him a very nice song and he's a total jerk about it, leaving the desperately co-dependent Mrs. Claus to patch things up. He has some sort of eating disorder that causes his weight to fluctuate wildly. He tells Dasher he should be ashamed for presenting Rudolph to the community simply because the child has some sort of nose disorder. He only changes his mind about Rudolph once he figures out a way to exploit him. Plus, this guy is absolutely ITCHING to cancel Christmas. Hey Santa. It's not your call. Christmas is the day Jesus was born. God will let you know if Christmas is cancelled. Until then, get in the damn sleigh.

2.) WHAT'S UP WITH CLARICE?

A generation of men is all screwed up because Rankin/Bass decided to make Clarice disturbingly attractive. She's a little forward, a little coy, and those eyelashes! I swear to God, men should all organize a class action suit to pay for therapy.

3.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE ELVES?

Why are they such fascists? Like the head elf isn't way different than all the others? And what about the tall elf? Is he an engineer? Is he from MIT? Why is he tall? And how come the head elf and the tall elf don't get in any trouble but Hermy does? 4.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THE REINDEER?Okay, Rudolph's glowing, squealing nose is weird, but why do the other reindeer find it terrifying? What is it about a glowing, squealing nose makes other reindeers pupils shrink and their bodies convulse? And why does it mean that Rudolph can't 'play in any reindeer games'? He's the best at flying !

5.) IS IT HERMY OR HERBIE?

My word to God, he gets called both over the course of less than an hour.

6.) WHAT'S THE DEALIO ON THAT TALKING SNOWMAN?

Forty years ago, Burl Ives, who lent his voice and a lot more of his image than you'd think to the Talking Snowman was a big star. Now nobody remembers hits like "The Big Rock Candy Mountain" or "The Ugly Bug Ball" or his Oscar winning turn as "Big Daddy" in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof". All anyone remembers about Burl Ives is that he is the talking snowman and they don't even know he was really Burl Ives. I imagine this makes the ghost of Burl Ives just about as mad as hell.

7.) WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH TIME AT THE NORTH POLE?

Okay, follow me here. Rudolph runs away from home right after Reindeer practice. He has adventures with Herbie and Yukon Cornelius and visits the Island of Misfit Toys. Then he leaves them behind and is off on his own long enough to enter puberty and grow antlers. Meanwhile, his Dad went to look for him right after he ran away, followed almost immediately by his mom and that Little Tart Clarice. The near adult Rudolph returns home to be informed by Santa that everyone's gone looking for him. We know it's been less than a year because Santa says he can't fly the team without Rudolph's dad, but it sure as hell has been a while. Rudolph goes directly to the Abominable snowman's cave JUST IN TIME TO STOP HIM FROM EATING .....CLARICE! How are we supposed to view this sequence of events? Where Mom, dad and Clarice looking for Rudolph for almost a year before the Abominable caught them? It's just a coincidence Rudolph stumbles upon them moments after that? I think this stretches credulity. I'm forced to assume that somewhere in the vicinity of the Island of Misfit Toys there's an object of immense mass, perhaps a Fallen White Dwarf Star, and that proximity to this mass causes relativity in time so that Rudolph has aged nearly a year while only having left the Pole for about a day.

8.) DO CLARICE'S PARENTS JUST NOT GIVE A SHIT?

Rudolph runs away and his folks go after him. Clarice disappears and her parents… don't appear in the special. Is she an orphan? Is that why she's always on the make, looking for the love she never got?

9.) WHY IS KING MOON RACER SO DAMN COOL?

Aside from the fact that a Lion with wings is pretty cool to begin with, no one knows. I mean what does he do? He's king of an Island of Misfit Toys and all he wants is for Santa to take them off his paws. Then what would he be king of? A lot of Permafrost, that's what. But he's still cool as hell and anyone who says he isn't can meet me out back for a serious beating.

10.) IS THE BUMBLE MENTALLY CHALLENGED OR WHAT?

Ten minutes before Herbie yanks his teeth out, This hulking brute snapped a stalactite off of the roof of his cave and beat Rudolph unconscious with it. Now he's harmless because he doesn't have teeth? HELLO! You still have huge friggin' claws! You're still a friggin' GIANT! Get another stalactite and beat Yukon Cornelius to prospector paste instead of letting him push you off a cliff!

11.) WHAT'S WRONG WITH THE DOLL ON THE ‘ISLAND OF MISFIT TOYS'?

She looks fine, right? She isn't. She wouldn't be on the ‘Island if Misfit Toys' if she was. Check it out. Rudy tells King Moon Racer that if he ever gets back to the North Pole he'll give Santa the 411 on the Misfits. Christmas Eve, when the doll thinks Santa isn't going to show, she goes on a crying jag and accuses Rudolph of having promised to help them. Okay, A.) He never made any promise B.) Rudolph doesn't run Christmas, Santa does. I'll tell you why the doll is a misfit. She's a little liar.

12.) WHY DOESN'T CHARLIE IN THE BOX CHANGE HIS NAME?

You can do that, you know. Have your name changed. Plus I’m kinda partial to Charlie.

13.) WHY DOESN'T THE JELLY SQUIRTING WATER PISTOL EMPTY OUT THE JELLY AND PUT IN WATER?

I mean, it's not brain surgery. Stop looking for Santa to solve your problems. He's a bastard.

14.) WHY DOES RUDOLPH AGREE TO LEAD SANTA'S SLEIGH?

I mean, when someone treats you that way, all they deserve is a swift hoof in the privates. I'm serious. Guide your own damn sleigh. Then when you crash in the Andes you can eat your Reindeer to survive. Nobody likes a skinny Santa.

On that happy note – Have a great day everybody!!

Darling Boy

Dearest Charlie,

My love for you knows no bounds. Every triumph of yours is like my own. Every sadness you have cuts me to the bone. If I could wrap you in cotton and stick you in the closet to know you are safe I would. That doesn’t seem to be an option though so we must carry on as normal. All that being said, let’s just put that aside for the moment.

You have started to play basketball with the EBA (Etobicoke basketball association) and they gave you your own jersey and kid sized basketball. You love your new ball. You love to bounce it in the house which I perhaps don’t love as much as you do. Guess what happened to me the other morning? I woke at 5:30 and couldn’t fall back asleep so I decided to go downstairs and read in the family room. As I was walking down the stairs in the dark, and this is the important part so please pay close attention, I stepped on your ball that was at the bottom of the stairs. The ball went shooting forward and I landed on my scrawny butt on the bottom stairs. Keep paying attention because my little story isn’t over yet. As I lay sprawled on the bottom step I sort of flopped in a fish-like fashion onto my side, still in the dark, and rolled onto some large Lego pieces. These Legos’ bit into my side and added to the pain I was feeling from my fall. I rolled over one more time, happily not hitting any toys this time and started swearing under my breath like a fishwife. I contemplated getting up but was afraid of what might happen next. So guess what I did? I just laid there in the dark. Really. I just decided to just be. To do nothing at all. It’s been a heck of a long time where I’ve done just nothing. I realize if I’m not working or parenting then I’m reading or checking the news. I think your Mommy needs to learn how to let go sometimes and just be. The funny thing is that I recall we did the “clean up” song and tidied the family room before I went to bathe Sophie. This small ensuing mess must have magically happened afterward.

So through your basketball placement I actually learned something. I need to be. I need to breathe. I have to be still. This is a lesson that I know will take me years but once again in a weird way you have given me food for thought.

Dear Charlie – you are my biggest challenge and my biggest reward. You have tested me in ways that I could not believe but I have learned so much from you. Your tenderness and capacity to love leaves me breathless.

Now – go pick up your toys.
Love Mommy

Princess Problems

Oh Hey!

Yes, it seems like I have disappeared, yet again. Here's the thing. Sometimes the more I have to say the less I blog. Funny isn't it? Well I've started numerous entries and deleted them because discretion got the better part of me. Damn that discretion voice in my head!

I've just gone through a long period of dealing with some people who are frankly nutbars. I would so LOVE to give you the details but Alan has cautioned me against it because as you know once something is on the net it is out there forever. Darn Alan and his appropriateness - blame him. This is the sort of thing I hate. Whenever someone says, ohhhh I have some juicy news BUT I can't tell you! It drives me crazy! Doesn't it want to make you throttle people? No fair and bad form I say. If you know me and want the deets then email me and I will spill the deets privately. But seriously - crazy folk. Enough said.

So let's talk about Princesses. Anyone who knows me knows that I am not a girly girl. Yes occasionally I get girly but I'm not super girly. Since I've had Sophie I've put in a lot of thought about the Princess phenomenon. Frankly I'm not crazy about it. Yes, imagination and fairy tales are lovely but that's what they are, fairy tales. For the longest time I've been resisting the exposure to the princess stuff with my daughter because I choose not to feed into it. The fact is that I don't believe that "every girl is a princess" nonsense because guess what? We're not. I don't want Sophie to be spoon fed this nonsense. Yes, every person is special, but the fact is we all are not going to move into castles and be super rich and beautiful and the Prince isn't going to solve everything.

I get queasy when I go into little girls rooms where it looks like Walt Disney has thrown up in there with all the Princess stuff. The pink and purple and glitter just seems like too much. Here is the thing though. They seem to be totally drawn to it. One Saturday morning when Sophie saw a commercial for "My Little Pony" she almost lost her mind. There were ponies! With long beautiful hair! And shiny Jewels! It rocked her world. Despite my best intentions of having a non-girly girl it seems like I just might have one.

The saving grace is that when I asked her who her favourite Princess was she said, "oooh Sinner-ella!" Now I can totally get down with Sinnerella. My theory is that she has long, glossy black hair and shows more cleavage that the average princess. Whilst the other princesses are busy flitting about castles singing songs of love and happiness under her breath she is muttering, "this is total bullshit". Whenever the princesses are called together for yet another photo-shoot for a backpack or lunch box she asks about the next coffee break. You know she secretly just wants to sneak a smoke or text her boyfriend who is decidedly un-prince like. Sinnerella has all the other princesses numbers and isn't afraid to use them. "Oh yeah Cinderella? You just haven't found closure for losing your mother!" "Jasmine, admit you hate that Arabian sexist regime!" "Bella, please, a beast? Really?"

For all my hopes my dear daughter now sports a Princess backpack to preschool (sans Sinnerella) but I will remain optimistic that she can outgrow it.

With no segue at all I must mention that I am thinking about stopping this blog. Mostly because it seems to have a, "Look at me! Look at me!" aspect about it and I've never wanted to be that type of person. Let me mull it over.

So You Had A Bad Day?

This picture was taken the day before the super bad day. We went to Chudleigh's apple farm and a good time was had by all. They are all squinty because the sun is in their eyes but I'm surprised at how much they actually look alike.

Okay on to the BAD day. Please know that I understand that in reality I live a charmed life of security, a loving marriage, and two great kids. BUT this is my place to let loose so I will do so. Brace yourselves.

So yesterday morning I was behind the eight ball in terms of having lunch made for Charlie etc. It was a super busy morning of getting the three of us fed, dressed, lunch made and everyone out the door with time to meet the bus. Charlie had what I call Monday-morningitis. He hates to leave me after we have spent the weekend together. He was crying as I drove away and that just feels like a knife through the heart. I know that in a minute he would stop but still it makes me feel like the worst Mom ever. I constantly question the whole working Mom thing and stay at home Mom thing and it drives me crazy.

Once I got to work I got in trouble. Now bear with me as this is very rare with "the best boss on the planet" Seriously, I'm lucky to work with this woman who is lovely and bright in every way. I'm not going to go into details but there was a meeting that was missed. We both missed it and it reflected poorly on me. I felt so badly you wouldn't believe it. I don't like messing up because guess what? I'm a people pleaser. Surprise, surprise!! I've worked with this woman for almost ten years now and you could not know how badly I felt with what went down. Also I had to miss a day last week due to a childcare situation that I had no control over whatsoever which also made me feel like crap. I wanted to crawl under a rock.

Normally on the way home from work I would have called Anne or Kimberly or my sister but I lost my cellphone last week so wah wah wah! (As an aside I placed an order for a lovely frosty pink cellphone so all will be good soon!) I picked up the kids and Charlie had a total meltdown as I didn't get the "right" babysitter to sit for less that an HOUR as Alan and I had to go curriculum night at his school. THEN, oh yes right after I gave the kids dinner and Alan got home Sophie had the most spectacular terrible two meltdown of her life. I think she screamed and wailed in my arms for almost fifteen minutes. Poor bunny, must have had a lot of toddler stress to expel. I know this is just a stage but gah it makes one feel horrible.

After all this I had to cancel weekend plans with friends, which I NEVER do in principle. BUT it was a last minute invite to Father Joe's 70th birthday. This man married my parents, baptized me, did my first communion and confirmation, did the funerals of both my parents, married Alan and I, baptized both my children and just recently did the funeral of my Grams. Alan and I have dinner with him often and he is like a second father to me. So the upshot, if you'll excuse swearing whilst I talk about a priest, oh wait, he was made Monsignor about two years ago, is that I felt like a total shit cancelling with an old friend who has become a renewed friend and she and her husband are cops and that is Charlie's dream to hang with cops. Seriously. (Sorry Kathy! You have firearms and that makes me not want to piss you off!)

Soooooooo, off to curriculum night we went to the school which was fine. We sat at little kids desks to listen to the teacher and I swear Alan's knees were up by his ears on these tiny chairs. Charlie had told me he hadn't eaten his mini-babybel at lunch and lo and behold I looked into the desk I was sitting at and there was a tiny babybel. Also in the desk was a bunch of notices to parents that hadn't come home with my sons' name on it. Coincidence? I think not. In some parallel universe my son and I are so connected it's scary.

So on our way home I told Alan that it was my Dad's birthday. I know it's been thirteen years since I lost Dad but for some reason I was feeling the sting yesterday much more that usual. I told Al that after we put the kids to bed I might need a cry. He said, "I don't get it. I don't have to plan to cry or need to that often." So I said, "Well duh, you're a boy. Boys are told not to. Girls are given permission and methinks we are better off because of it."

So after the kids were down I followed Alan around like a puppy asking for fortifying hugs and declarations of love. Poor guy, he probably just wanted to watch the news.

After a pretty good night - I only had to put Sophie down once at 3am or some other ridiculous time, I awoke at 5:45. Unprompted Alan rolled over and put his arm around me for about twenty minutes before we got up. I took a deep breath and thought to myself, "with him I am home. A new day with no mistakes in it to set everything straight."

Here's to new beginnings everyone.

Hellooooo Sailor!

See this weird thing in the picture? Let's discuss. The other day I was reading a blog of a friend who lives in Kansas. She mentioned she wanted a Kindle for her birthday and I had no idea what the heck she was talking about. I was lead to an amazon.com link and what did I find? Manna from heaven people, manna. So the Kindle is a reading device whereby you can download books in under two minutes for about six to ten bucks. This thing is as thin as a pencil and super light with an "electronic paper page" to read by. It is light, has a long lasting rechargeable battery and is wireless. You don't need wireless Internet to download anything. The cost of the downloading is built into the cost of the book. You can keep it with you and take it to appointments, download a bunch of books to take on vacation or even take it on the bus (to which Alan would say "not a snowball's chance would Steph take a bus. bah!)

Also, let's face it. Kindle is a great name. It reminds one of kindling, and who doesn't like easy, lovely kindling for a fire? Kindle is also reminiscent of Kinder, the German word for children as in Kindergarten (which means children garden) and who doesn't like that? How friggin cozy and lovely is this name?

So let's review. You can download any book in minutes and it is much cheaper than printed material and it has an adorable name. Umm I just have to say, Helloooooooo Sailor! You had me at hello.

I showed it to Alan who said, "Do it, just do it". Guess what? NOT AVAILABLE IN CANADA. Well I can't tell you about the utter disappointment. It seems we have this crazy expensively weird wireless in Canada that can't make friends with the U.S. Anyone who has tried to download a T.V. show from the American networks will be met with the evil, "show isn't available outside of the United States" message. Well hell and damn is what I have to say. I need to interview a Canadian candidate for Prime Minister to discuss this nonsense. I truly want a Canadian red Kindle and I would line up overnight to get one. Much like a Star Wars geek.

Let's reiterate. Any book. Any time you want it. Jesus, Mary and Joseph that would be the best.

Speaking of the best, let' talk about Amelia. Amelia was the cleaning lady in my parent's home when I was about sixteen. She is Portugese and the sweetest, kindest woman I know. Amelia had trouble with English back then and had her daughter call me regarding any issues, day changes etc. Amelia brought us gifts when she went to Portugal every other year and became part of our family, part of our home.

Amelia cleaned our family home after I moved out and found Dad having a seizure one day right before he passed. She was there when I came in that morning and even though her English wasn't great she could give me the details and hugged me close before we took off in the ambulance.

Now Amelia is here for us every two weeks and adores our children like her own. Even though her English still isn't great she chases the kids around and does tickle games and kisses their sweet necks until they scream with laughter. They adore her. As do I.

Now that our children are Nanny-sharing during the day at the other family's house Amelia doesn't get to see them as much. Alan and I make a point of making our house totally tidy before she arrives so that she can clean and not tidy. The other day I came home from work and our house was completely immaculate and she had done our laundry and folded it also (which I have NEVER asked her to do). I can't tell you how good I felt. It felt as good as if I had been in the Bahamas for a week. Her kindness has touched me to the core. I want to buy her a Kindle.

An Insult to Pitbulls Everywhere!

Hey! Yes I am still alive. The weird thing is that I haven’t felt like updating lately and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I think it has to do with end of summer stuff and beginning of school stuff. I just haven’t felt like I had too much to say which for me is extremely odd. Oh sure I’ve had opinions. I could go on for days about that crazy nutbar Palin. Alan and I love American politics and actually watch each debate and talk talk talk about the insaneness of the Republicans. It’s one on our guilty pleasures. You might enjoy chocolate? We enjoy Republican bashing. The Biden-Palin debate just might be the high point of our year in terms of entertainment!

The sad thing is we can’t seem to muster the same excitement about Canadian politics. I was wondering if it was just me but I asked my boss, a Senator’s wife, and she agreed that indeed Canadian politics were a yawn compared to American but in one sense that might be a good thing. We, as Canadians, are much less divisive than Americans. I guess that is positive but infinitely less entertaining. Well look at that. I started out wanting to discuss one thing and it turned into politics. I have much more to add about the whole Palin thing but I’ll save that for a later day. I don’t know when. Oh maybe when she has the guts to actually grant an interview. Don’t even get me started on the whole Hockey Mom/pit bull dog and pony show which is insulting to women and mothers everywhere because I might just lose my mind! Okay let’s all take a deep breath now. That’s better.

Speaking of mothers I’ve done a hell of a lot of mothering lately. My darling Alan is away golfing with nineteen other guys in PEI. He left last Friday and won’t be back until later this week. So it’s just me and the little people and I kept them busy with an action packed weekend of playdates. The weekdays are crazy too. I know a lot of you have young kids too and as you know once your feet hit the ground in the morning (which for me is around - oh FIVE AM!) you never stop until the little people are in bed. And then maybe some laundry and kitchen cleaning and voila you get maybe a half hour of TV and then off to bed. BUT I cannot have a day go by without reading.



I've mentioned this before but I must, must, must read lots, daily. It's an escape for me that I need mentally to function. Even when I have no time to myself I will get up at 2am and read for a couple hours and go back to bed for a couple of hours. I was about to say that I became a big reader at about 17 but in reality I've always loved it. Every couple of weeks my brother, sister and I would get home from school and there would be three books on the kitchen table. We didn't even have to ask Mom which one was for whom because she knew us so well and knew what type of book would interest us. Another thing my parents did intentionally was to have interesting Magazines out on the coffee table so we would casually pick them up and read. National Geographic, Owl (when we were little), Macleans, Toronto Life and eventually the Economist. I swear I NEVER thought I would read that but since it was just lying around I picked it up and guess what? It was actually interesting. That's one lesson I plan to do - make reading material available.



Anyhoo - when Mom was diagnosed I was seventeen. I could NOT sleep with worry and fear so guess what I did? I would read myself to sleep every night. Sometimes it would be a half hour or and hour but I would always fall asleep with the light on and a book most likely on my face. Mom or Dad always shut off the light for me at some point. Reading was the only way I could stop my mind from racing and worrying. Every single night since I was seventeen I've read myself to sleep - just ask Al. Poor Alan has to take off my glasses (I wear contacts during the day) and remove the book from my hands and turn off the light every single night. Since he is away when I wake in the middle of the night, because I always do, my light is still on. Who knew how handy husbands could be?



Due to all of these reading shenanigans I have read lots of stuff. Biographies, Memoirs, great fiction, non-fiction and some bad stuff too. I reread books I love so I can return to places that are comfortable and made me happy. I HATE book snobs. Sorta like people at a dinner party with black turtlenecks who tsk tsk because one might not have read a very specific Bertrand Russell or something like that. Sure I've read and loved many of the "heavy" authors but I abhor (I seem to use that word a lot don't I?) people who act like Judgy McJudgersons. I can dig a Wilkie Collins or a Maeve Binchy equally. I can read some lite chick-lit or get down with some Leon Uris or Sartre. Just give me something good something, something I can escape into.

Alan has very specific reading tastes. He's not a fan of the fiction. He loves real life adventures of life on the high seas. Real life pirate accounts or explorers or certain voyages. He keeps an atlas under his side of the bed so while he's reading he can whip it out and look up a certain island or something in his book. I often don't ask him if he's going to read but more so is he going out to sea?

If anyone wants to borrow a book - send me an email or give me a call!

Recommendation : I just finished the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society and it totally rocked. (This might appeal to women more than men - but oh it was a great escape.)

P.S. I decided to do a blog today because Liz was asking why I haven't been around. Hi Liz! Nostrovia!