Too School For Cool

School is back.

What the hell?

Didn't summer just start?   Here in NY, it didn't even get moving until mid-July and just when I started enjoying it, BAM!  School.

Allie will be in Pre-K this year.  Her last year before her formal education begins.  The last year that she probably will enjoy the entire day of school.  After this there is homework.  Yes, Kindergarten has homework.

What the hell?  Again!

What happened to half days of Kindergarten where you fought over all of the germy toys, took naps, and ran around like lunatics?  Now they are full days of school, and the toys and running around are limited.  And no freakin' nap! 

The nap has officially been removed from the curriculum.  This, my friend, is where the nap went to die.  I had hoped that the other grades would catch on to the handiness of the nap and then eventually this would evolve into a mandatory daily work event.  When you're five, you don't want to nap!  It's when you're 35 that you need a siesta!

Think about it.... 2pm in the middle of the day, you bust out your comfy pillow and favorite woobie and take a snoozle.  25 minutes later, you wake up refreshed and ready to move on.  It would BEHOOVE companies to have a mandatory nap time.  

Also, rumor has it that kids should be reading in Kindergarten.  When I was in Kindergarten, there were two kids who knew how to read.  And they were shipped off to sit with the 2nd graders for a bit during the morning for some sort of kiddie book club.  And those kids really wanted to just stay in the classroom and play with the germy toys, take a nap, and run around.  You were a freak if you knew how to read at that age.  Now it's no biggie.  My mother can no longer puff up with pride when she tells people that I was one of those two reading freaks.  Parents these days are probably thinking "Big whoop.  All kindergarteners can read now.  Get over yourself."

Speaking of reading, I thought I'd clarify a little something. 

As I mentioned last time, yes I am writing a book.  I will not tell you what the book is about yet, but I can confirm that it is NOT a memoir or about a certain scandalous company that I used to work for.  Are we clear on that?  All of the people from my past do not need to worry.  I'm not going to share deep, dark secrets about past relationships, so you can chill out.  

Now, in regards to that aforementioned scandalous company, should someone come into a little cashola and want to pay me to gather info and write a book, then I'm available and I'm talkin'!  We all spent our years at that place saying, "I could totally write a book about this place.  The shit that happens here is craaaaaaaazy!"  You know who you all are!  If you're up for it, I'm game!

It's a fiction novel and I'm 1/3 done.  I'm doing research and whatnot now before continuing but I'm very excited about doing it.  November is National Novel Writing Month and I'm hoping to finish the next third of the book as I join the other NaNoWriMos (yes, this is an actual organization) in the commitment to write 50,000 words of my novel.

Anyway, back to school......

Tomorrow is orientation for Allie's school and Friday will be her first day back to school.  I will be taking the obligatory "First Day of Pre-K" photo and I might even post it on Facebook or Instagram like the rest of the parental population.  I'm sure the people without little deductions roll their eyes and groan when school begins as we parents clog up their social media with photos of kids they don't care about.  I'm pretty sure I was an eye roller before Allie.  But throughout the flurry of photos, someone posted this and I can't believe it took so long for someone to come up with this witty little snapshot:

Well done, KC Walsh!  Well done!

And while I'm complaining, does anyone know who the fucker was that decided all swimming pools should close on Labor Day?  Who was that rotten bastard?  And why Labor Day?  Every year, it's blazing freakin' hot the week of Labor Day and I stand there, sweating, on my front lawn, ogling the pool across the street that's completely full of water and totally operational..... but padlocked.  

I hate them.  They should be sent to Guantanamo Bay Detention Center, forced it sit in the sun and stare at a refreshing body of water for just as long as I have to sweat outside and gawk at my pool.  It's just plain wrong.   At least drain the damn thing so I don't have to look at it, and be tortured by the memories of the cool refreshing water that I submerged my body into on those dreadfully hot sunny days.

And with that, I must leave you to put my little human, and my big self,  into bed.  After all, it's a pre-school night!

Toodles!

xoxox

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

Playboy Dirt - Holly vs. Kendr-UGH!

I've become a book hoarding whore.

Yes, it's as bad as it sounds.  I listen to Audible.com all day while I work, then I spend a little time each day writing my own book, then I actually read books late at night thru Kindle.  My daughter has an obscene collection of books and we still take out more at the library.  We have 12 book shelves full of books that I struggle to part with.  I keep books in the bedroom, bathroom, living room and my car.  If you open my trunk, you see books there too.  I collect books from people and donate them.  And the icing on my cake of insanity? During my "free time"  (i.e. stuck in traffic, walking an extra-sniffy dog or in the bathroom) I look on Amazon for MORE books that might catch my eye.

But now I've found literary whoredome.  What is that?  Its when you JUST CAN'T HELP YOURSELF AND SPEND YOUR TIME OBSESSIVELY READING SOMETHING TRASHY.

And what might that be?

I know you all are curious!

It's this.....

And you know what?

I'm just loving it!!!!  It's a gossipy little publication that I can't put down.

Here's the thing.  I used to see commercials and ads for Holly Madison's "Girls Next Door" show on E!  At the time, I was a devoted US Magazine reader (it was the Entertainment Bible, you know!) and  there was always something in US about the show or one of the girls.  That gawd awful Kendra Wilkinson kept me from ever watching it, but I always thought 'that Holly girl looks too sweet and normal to be involved with these people'.  She seemed somehow "better than" the others.

Her story is a doozie!  She was a target for almost every female that lived in the Playboy mansion because..... here it is again..... she was too nice.  (HOW DARE SHE???  That's just the worst, like,  EVER!)  Unfortunately, her self image was crap and she permitted the abuse, so it was kind of doomed to happen.  I don't want to give too much away, so I'll silence any rant I have about her story.

BUT.....

I deeeespise that Kendra!  She always annoyed me.  A few weeks ago, we turned the tv on and as we skimmed by the channels, we saw that she was sitting in bed with her husband, berating him about how he had an affair with a transexual.  Just on and on and on and on with her never ending bitching and sense of entitlement.  She's wrecked because she can't believe he cheated on HER!  And with a transexual!  But not too wrecked to resist telling the entire world about how wronged she was and to emasculate her husband (who already lost a good bit of his manly rep by cheating with a transexual individual).

All I could think of was, "Do you know how pathetic you look?  If my husband cheated on me, the last thing I would be doing is telling everyone in the world just so people could feel sorry for me!  Instead, we all are thinking that you must be quite the bitch by the way your are carrying on and no wonder he cheated!"  (women everywhere just cringed..... sorry!)

Quit being a mess, Kendra!  We are over it.  Zip it!

Now I read this little sassy story by Holly Madison and see that Kendra was always a self-serving, fame hungry, entitled witch.  You know why she's so mad about the book?  Let me tell you why!  It's not because Holly said a lot of nice things about her (which she DID)  It's because HOW DARE someone repeat her rotten behavior from that point in her life???!!  SHE'S A VICTIM, DAMMIT!!!  And only SHE can rehash the horrible behavior of others..... like her husband, Hank.

Side note: any PR person who can fix that man's image should be a billionaire.   Lamar Odom will recover faster from his own scandal than Hank will, because his wife won't shut the fluck up about it! We will surely never forgot how he did her wrong and she doesn't want us to.

Kendra..... The Mascot for The Girls of Entitlement

And so, my friends, it is here that I regret to inform you that many of the members of Generation Z (after the millenials, are now in their late 30's) think that Kendra is "awesome" and "so cool".  They can relate to her and think that her attitude is totally spot on.  I can barely stand looking at her, so that explains why I do a lot of head shaking when I'm around the Zs.  (You know who they are by the narcisstic and/or complaining posts on Facebook.... it's all about how they are fabulous and/or have been wronged by everyone, including you at some point, even though you don't know it)  

I think her book may be the hidden manual for how to deal with the Zs.  What we need is someone to read it and evaluate this nut so we know what we are dealing with.  Any volunteers?

God help us all.

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

New Stuff I Got Goin On

Well, I'd say that was quite a sabbatical!  I didn't know I'd be gone for so long.  It was an extended blog nap, I suppose.

To follow up with my last post......  we didn't get shit.

I shouldn't say that.  We did have some sort of progress but not in how we expected.

After the last meeting we discovered that Justin's lawyer was a moron.  I'm sure he had plenty of good qualities, but helping us was not one of them.  The least worrisome of his moronic behavior was his inability to call us back with information we needed..... until we fired him.  Then he knew our phone number really well!  He could dial those digits lickety-split.

Justin, the good egg that he is, didn't want to fire him.  He felt bad that this man put 5 years of work into our case and we were going to give him the boot.  But, as I told him, it was five SHITTY years of work.  He was horrible!  No one could believe that this case wasn't settled and at the last meeting, Justin was told that there were two more doctors that needed to give depositions and then....blah blah blah blah blah.  My theory?  "This jerk isn't going to be sending us Christmas Cards and checking in after this is over!  He's gonna take his cut and run.  He doesn't give a rat's ass about us.  Who cares about him?!"

We were directed to a different firm through this wonderful person at Allstate who helped me grow up and pay attention to my meager investments (I thought the money would do better if I just ignored it and let it do its thing....okay, so investment-wise I'm as much of a moron as that lawyer we fired).  Here's what happened next:

Lawyer called us back in 24 hours
They got all of the records from the moron lawyer
Shit is happening!   Be still my heart.

Who knows what's going to happen.  At this point, I've relegated myself to "financially screwed for eternity" until someone tells me that there's a position opening up in the "show me the money" department.   Keep your fingers crossed for us, 'kay?

Speaking of my husband.... you know how they say "You know who your true friends are when your life isn't going well?"  Well, he is a living testament to that statement.  Totally true story.

When I met him, he had a bunch of friends that he hung out with.  Some separately.  Some in a group.  Every time one of these people needed help.... like their tv broke, or their heat went at their business, or they wanted something he had that was super expensive so they asked if they could make payments and take it now.....he was there.  Need money?  He'd lend it.  I never had a friend give me a vehicle and let me pay them off.... whenever I could.  Those people did though!  He was a gem of a friend!

Do you know where those people are now that we don't have cash with spare to share?  Me neither.

I think about it and I'm disgusted by how friendly they were when they had their hands out, but once we were in a bad spot, NOT ONE OF THEM has called to see how he is or if he needed anything.  I shouldn't be surprised.  They're probably afraid he'd ask them for something, much like they did to him for years.  The sad part is that Justin feels bad about it.  The only good part is that it weeded them out.   I swear if we are ever in that financial position again, they will never see a red cent.  Bad bad bad karma!!

I'm done venting.  I really had no intention of going through all of that when I sat down here.

If anyone is on a tear with books and looking for some gooders to read, let me know!  I've been ripping thru them on audio since Christmas.  I've been working a lot and when I work a lot, I miss Allie.  And when I miss Allie, I get depressed.  And when I get depressed, I eat a lot of crap.  So, audio books distract me from how much I miss my little peanut, therefore I don't eat.

Speaking of books....

I'm writing one.

Oh yes indeed.  It's true.  Aren't I just fancy?

About 8 years ago, I was dating a guy who dumped my sorry ass.  I was pathetic.  I remember feeling like Monica from "Friends" when she and Richard broke up.

I was living by myself and I would drive the 5 blocks to my dad's house and sit and cry on his shoulder (literally!  he watched tv and I just cried.)

One night, as I sat with my head on Dad's shoulder and my big box of tissues on my lap, I realized I had two different shoes on.  I scanned upward and noticed that my sweatpants had a hole in the crotch and my flannel shirt was totally buttoned wrong.  To top it off, I hadn't even combed out my hair when I got out of the shower that morning.  I went into the bathroom, looked in the mirror and said to myself, "Self, you need to get a grip!"

I went to my therapist and he advised me to do two things..... pick up a hobby and move around whenever I started thinking about my now ex-boyfriend.

So, I did two things.  I took my dog for a walk every time I got weepy (he was the happiest he had ever been!) and I decided to write a book.  I know.... it's a big hobby, but I'm notorious for biting off more than I can potentially chew (literally AND figuratively, as now I also have TMJ)  I sat down and began to write.  And write.  And walk the dog.  And write.  I learned that when I'm miserable, I'm a committed writer!

Unfortunately, a few months later, my husband swept me off of my feet and I stopped writing.  I learned then that when I'm deliriously in love, I'm a crappy writer.

And so sat my little novel.  For eight years.

While listening to one of the audio books on tape a month ago

the rest of the story hit me like a ton of bricks right in the brain, right out of nowhere!  The book was sitting behind some door in my brain that was overlooked time and time again.  Suddenly, it burst through the door, ready to come out and be seen

And I gotta tell ya', writing a book is no easy task.  I thought it would be like blogging, but it's not!  There's a whole lot of prep work if you're serious about it.   And I'm serious.  The truth is that I've wanted to be a writer my whole life.  I was writing stories when I was a youngin'.  There are piles of them in notebooks in my mom's garage.  (Not mine, because ours is a complete disaster of hoarding proportions)

With that all being said, I must depart and get my silly self to bed.  The brain needs to recharge or I spend valuable time every day writing drivel that makes me angry when I proof read it later.  I will tend to my blog more often, because I still have lots of ridiculousness to report and insanity to complain about.  I need you.

Totally true story!

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!

Are We Finally Getting Our Due?

Happy New Year everyone!

I hope you all had wonderful holidays and an excellent start to the new year.

I am going to tackle 2015 like a champ, but you know, there are always those things that are out of our control.  I have a hard time dealing with them.  I like to have structure.  For instance, the torn meniscus, followed by the little auto accident, and rounding everything up by falling down the stairs in the dark this past week were definitely not structured into my daily agenda.  But we all gotta suck it up and moving on.  It can always be worse.

I started a gratitude journal too.  A five year sucker.  I want to maintain some positivity even if my day is in the crapper.  If you're looking to do something similar, you can get a great one here:  http://tinyurl.com/lbz23vg.  

It's nicely made, hardcover, small enough to put in a purse but big enough to write in.  I also found this little gem:  http://tinyurl.com/mvnxgcu.

My favorite part about them?  Cheap!  Best gifts I gave myself for Christmas.

Speaking of gratitude, I've got a situation where I've had to search hard to find things to be grateful for.....but I'm still hoping.  I know they are there somewhere.  Sometimes you need to get out your PI hat and magnifying glass, but I'm sure they are there.  There is ALWAYS something.

As some of you may know, Justin and I have been dealing with his back injury for nearly 5 years.  It happened at work on Sept. 1st, 2009..... 18 days before our wedding.  Since then, our lives have changed.  A lot.  Five epidurals, two surgeries, massive amounts of narcotics and lingering pain tends to have an affect on one's life.  It also changes the lives of the people you live with.  

Our wedding day September 2009.
I was sick as a dog and he was flying high on pain medication but it was still one of the best days of my life!

The injury seems to control our lives and it likes to run the show.  No joke.  It's pretty badass.   We can have plans to take Allie to the playground and that day he can't walk the five minutes to get to the park.  I can take a little time off to spend with my family and that day he might be knocked out by a new medication.  Like I said, it's a badass injury.

For the first two years of Allie's life, Justin wasn't allowed to pick her up.  I would leave for work and had to make sure they were inside of a gated part of the living room so she couldn't run away.   I had my own little herd of humans waiting for me.  For the next two years of her life, Justin was allowed to try to pick her up but most of the time, he can't.

The limitations are endless.  His ego has takes a hit when he has to ask a GIRL from the pet store to put dog food bag in his car.  His pride has been shattered every time people question why he is unable to work.  He has immense guilt that I have to take every job I can .  His privacy was invaded as private investigators were sent to watch over us and see if he was faking his injury.  Yet he keeps pushing forward, hopeful that "things are gonna change soon."  Many people would've given up.

New scars to add to the old ones.  This was after the fusion in Nov 2012

 Through all of the changes, we adjusted!  Humans are resilient like that.  Granted, there were days where I cried, wondering why this happened to us.  There were moments when I wondered how we were going to manage.  But I really do believe that God/The Universe only gives you what you can handle.  And as for the shit you think you can't handle, He provides you with direction to help.

This week we went to our final medical exam after five years of this ridiculousness.   This is a real knee slapper (sarcasm).  See, apparently, the insurance company wants to be SURE that Justin is really injured.  Maybe he's a really good actor and is keeping this up so he can take all of the drugs that have wretched side effects?  Oh yes!  I'm sure many people would have their vertebrae fused for a good high!

Speaking of which, one day I got a good feel for what drugs they were giving him. When I gave birth to Allie, I had an epidural.  I looked up at the IV bag and saw that it was the same medication Justin took every day (and still does).  One of his pain medications was the same thing they give women who are giving birth to ease the pain.  That's some freaky stuff there! 

In March, the doctors and insurance people and lawyers will sit down and OFFICIALLY decide if Justin is really disabled.  It took this long for them to say "Okay.  We will stop giving all of our cashola to doctors and pharmaceutical peeps and maybe we will give you a little something... if there's any money left."  His medical procedures and medications have cost over $300,000.  That is some happy cash floating around the medical field!  I hope they put some aside for us little peeps.

Throughout the exam, I cried.  Not sobbing; just non-stop tears.  Five years of poking and prodding  Justin and then try to get him to do painful things, just to see if he's really injured.  It's been going on for years.   When is it going to be enough?  Well,  I think it's actually going to be soon.  I refuse to believe that there is no light at the end of this tunnel.  I will be especially grateful when we get there!

So, if you're a praying sort of person, I ask you to keep us in your prayers.  We want it to end and we're hopeful that the end is near.  Money isn't even the main reason why anymore.  Sure it would be NICE, but we both feel that he won't be getting much money, so we aren't counting on it.  We just want to live our lives without all of these professional people messing around with us.    

The truth is that despite the crappy moments, we've discovered that we are survivors.  We can make it through difficult moments and come out wiser and stronger.  I think we've proven to be more badass than the injury.   

I wish you all a HEALTHY 2015 full of things to be grateful for!

Fondly Recalling "Mailbox Mauling" While Pregnant

It's that wonderful time of the year again...... snowfall, kids and dogs playing in snow, snuggling under a blanket with loved ones, desecration of mailboxes....

Ah, yes! Good times, my friends.  Good times.

That last one carries many fond memories for me.  Before 2010, I never really noticed mailboxes.  And if I happened to see one that had been mangled, I always felt bad for the people it belonged to.  

And then I got pregnant.  Everything changed.

I've always had a love for MAIL.  When I was little, I ordered the RCA Record of the Month and stalked my mailbox waiting for it to arrive each month.  At every business I worked at, with the exception of hair salons, I was the mail person.  I retrieved the mail, sorted mail, stamped mail, dropped mail off at the post office, created mailing lists, etc.  One place even had me  help with the designing of their mailbox/brick fixture.  And when I forget to get the mail at home, someone always seriously asks "Are you okay?"  I love mail.  I'm sure you're picking up on that now.

The last 1.5 months of my pregnancy, I couldn't sleep.  I contracted a nasty cold after Justin and I decided to take a trip to a casino for the weekend.   Between the cigarette smoke and the INSANE AMOUNT OF GERMS, I was sick within 24 hours.   

If I wasn't sitting at a  minimum of an 80 degree angle, I was coughing and choking.  Laying down was impossible.  My anxiety was out of control and I was afraid that if I fell asleep, I would choke to death.  I watched the sun rise almost every day, still awake from the night before.  I knew every show that was on from the minute I got into bed until 6am.    I got between 2.5 hours and 45 minutes of sleep each night.  And then I worked all day at my physical, outdoorsy job.  

Recipe for disaster, indeed!

That month before Allie was born was a doozie when I was behind the wheel.  We had three relatively new vehicles that I was able to drive.  I had some sort of collision with all three within a few weeks.

Being blonde, Justin and I never thought about the possibility that maybe I shouldn't drive after the accidents with the first two cars.  However, as I was driving his Corvette into another car, he yelled "STOP!  STOP!" and calmly extracted me from the vehicle.  He decided that I shouldn't drive myself that day.  (Interpretation: "You can trash the other two cars, but don't f*ck up the really nice one or I'll mess your pregnant shit up !")  To be completely fair, he was super nice to me and held my hand while I cried because I had blemished his precious vehicle.  I'm really really REALLY lucky.

Pregnant selfie taken shortly after the "Vette Incident of 2010"

Going back to the topic of mailboxes.....

We had a Toyota FJ Cruiser and it was primarily Justin's truck.  For some reason I had it that day and on my ride home, I panicked when I saw deer on the side of the road.  My reflexes were totally lagging, so somehow I managed to swerve and hit both the front and back (but not the middle) of the truck into a row of mailboxes.

I stopped and was completely shocked.  I got out of the truck and stared at the truck.....then the mailboxes.....then the truck again.  There was mail everywhere.  As I mentioned, it was a row of mailboxes.  Dead soldiers, all bent over and their guts were scattered all over the road.  

As a lover of mail, I did what any other postal devotee would do.  I immediately started picking up the mail.  My big pregnant butt was walking around, bent over, trying to get the mail before someone drove by and really ruined it!  I waddled as quickly as I could and collected it all, junk mail included. 

As a partially sane, sleep deprived person, the important thing to do finally clicked in and I called Justin.  

Justin: Hey honey.  (he always answers nicely like that)

Me:  I just had an accident.

Justin: What??

Me:  I saw a deer and I thought it was going to run in front of me and I swerved and I hit this row of mailboxes and fishtailed again and then I hit the rest of them!

Justin: Where ARE you????

Me: (I give him the address.  I can't tell you.  They might have been YOUR mailboxes for all I know!)

Justin: That's where the mailboxes are?  Where are YOU?

Me: I just told you.

Justin: You're in front of the mailboxes?

Me: Yes.  I don't know which one belongs to which house and it's getting dark and no one is around.... (i'm crying by this point)

Justin: Why are you still there then?

Me: (silence)

Justin: Vicki!  Are you there?  Can you hear me??

Me: Yes.

Justin: What are you doing?

Me: Sorting the mail.

Justin: Your kidding right?

Me: No, I'm not!  The mail was everywhere! I can't really see the numbers on the boxes and it's a lot to sort!!

To this day, when Justin tells the story, he always emphasizes the fact that I sorted the mail before I left because he thinks I have an abnormal obsession with the postal system and, apparently, this story backs up his theory.

So, when I see a mangled mailbox, I remember that day fondly.  I won't continue with the dialogue, but while in that state of mind, I determined that the people should actually PAY me for hitting their mailboxes, because the other ones where total crap to begin with.  They would have to replace the mailboxes with new ones, which would increase the value of their property!  Therefore, as I informed my husband, I did them a huge favor, and THEY should pay US for the auto body repairs on the truck.  How I came up with that wacky logic is unclear, but I remember thinking that I was really smart when I was pregnant, sleep deprived and off of my anxiety medication.  AND, when I took him to see the mailboxes the next day, they had already replaced all of them with the pretty new kind that are encased in plastic mailbox-shaped suits of armor.  Improvements were swiftly made.  All. Because. Of me.

I am unable to post photos of the mailboxes before and after they were replaced (again, they could be YOURS and you'd be super pissed, as I imagine that you aren't buying that whole property value increase theory), but I've seen many others since that day and I always wonder what the story is behind them.  I've taken photos of some of my favorites since then and I hope you find these as intriguing as I did.  (Note: These are all taken in rather nice neighborhoods, which makes some of them even more entertaining.  Enjoy!)

These people are not giving up.  You can see by the multiple types of tape used that this was not their first rodeo, if you know what I mean.  

My personal favorite!  These people are on a mission.  They will protect their mailbox at all costs.  Garbage can filled with  cinder block chunks and held down with rebar, with electrical wire AND an audio/visual cable tying it to the post for the added touch.  I bet you he grabbed everything he could find in his garage that last time his mailbox was hit and put this together, fueled by fury!

Piggy back mail boxing.  At what point do you call your neighbor and say, "Ive had enough.  I'm not buying another mailbox.  I'm going to just tie mine onto yours.  I hope you can deal with that"?  Then, was the main box hit and the guy was too afraid to replace it with the other mailbox (from aforementioned pissed off neighbor) attached?

True New Yorker.  This person just took the box, flipped it so the opening was  facing up and still uses it this way.  There was mail in it!  I peeked!  This guy knows that if he replaces that box and we get a ton of snow, the DPW Angry Plowers will just take the new one out too.

This person just gave up.  RIP mailbox.  

Sent to me by a friend.  Total honorable mention! Support stick, rope, massive duct tape and who knows what else they used.  That little red flag screams "Never say die!  You can knock me down, but you can't take me out!"

If you have any of your own please email them to me!  gr8sh80L80@icloud.com (those are zeros, not the letter "o")

Wishing you all a lovely start to the holiday season!  xoxo

If you clickity click on the banner below, it will seem like nothing happened, but it did!  You can close the window as soon as it opens if you like.  T'anks peeps!