Not with my hip, that's just fine, thank you for asking.
Not with the anniversary of my perforation, although that certainly looms large.
No, I am assessing my adherence to the resolutions I made last week.
Since I said them out loud here in The Burrow, I'm beholden to you..... or so I seem to feel. Standing at the meat counter, watching the obviously-new-to-the-front-of-the-store butcher and the obviously-new-to-the-concept-of-food-shopping well-dressed gentleman of a certain age negotiate the collection and wrapping and pricing of crab legs and 10 or 15 of something in a shell, I thought of you.
You, watching me watching them. If I shuffled my feet or sighed or rolled my eyes or danced my newly painted nails across the handle of the cart, you, my external super ego, would notice. I didn't want to disappoint you, although, for my part, storming off in a huff would have felt just fine. But, I didn't. I stood there as they took their own sweet time, finding themselves hilariously unable to find the price of the things in the shells, talking about the season and the foodstuffs, as I stood there.
I tried not to generalize to an entire gender. I tried to appreciate their ease, their banter, their camaraderie. I tried. I'm not saying that I succeeded, but I tried. And that is progress.
On the declutter front, I took my time with the holiday decorations this year. They are packed efficiently. They are clearly labeled. None are too heavy to lift. They contain only items I cherish, those which bring me joy. I may not have adopted her entire program, but Marie Kondo's suggestion clearly worked in this small area of my life.
So, I'm two for two.
As far as guns are concerned, I'm putting off thoughts of action until after the Stroll and Roll this Saturday. I'm reveling in our President's actions, leaving Congress in its own, NRA-fueled dust. For this week, at least, that has to be enough.
Not bad after 4 days. Not bad at all.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
Monday, January 4, 2016
What I Have
There is this
and there is this.
There are these
and there are these.
This, and the small red nub above, are what remain of our holiday wax extravaganza.
The only gift which remains on display is TBG's birthday present.
Obviously, there is work to be done.
I spent my day with this.
Happy 2016 everyone!
I spent my day with this.
Friday, January 1, 2016
Happy Happy 2016
From my house to yours, from my heart to yours,
Because, really, why not?
As G'ma used to say, it won't get any better even if I complain.
(Please, someone remind me of this as the year goes on!?!)
Thank you for your readership
and your fellowship
and for sharing this space with me.I'm starting this new year with an open heart and an optimistic mind.
Because, really, why not?
As G'ma used to say, it won't get any better even if I complain.
(Please, someone remind me of this as the year goes on!?!)
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Declutter.....
I am tired of living in a messy space. Little Cuter didn't even go into the library when she was last here; it's too overwhelmingly, oppressively cluttered. My usual excuses (no attic, no basement, no crawl space, little closet space) worked for the first ten years we lived here, but they are a tired bunch of losers at this point. I must resolve to fix this.
There must be a reason that my eye is drawn to postings on this topic; my soul must be seeking clarity and harmony and a oneness with the inner calm residing beneath the chaos. That's what they promise, anyway. Apparently, surrounding myself with things that bring me joy will keep the crap from accumulating on my desk.
Would that that were so. I seem to love everything I see, here amidst the clutter.
The stack of family photos, awaiting replacement once the holiday decors are put away; my Kindle, my current crochet project, my address book, a crossword puzzle, a book to send to FlapJilly.... and that, denizens is the crux of it all. Everything I mentioned could be put away someplace else. I just don't have it organized in a functional way.
The woman who helped me with my pantry and desk drawers is living a new life in SoCal. She created an organizing miracle: a system which is still neat and useful years later. I had another, less successful, attempt and I'm reluctant to try a third time. This year, I am going to read up on clutter and see if there are tips I can adopt.
I have been thinking about the 15 minutes at a time concept. You may have a gigantic project, but you may only work on it for 15 minutes. You set a timer and when it goes off, you are done. You can come back to the project later, but you have to stop and regroup, first. I think you're supposed to stay with one area until it is finished, so that you recognize that progress is being made, but that may be my own personal overlay. As I said, I've been wrestling with that idea for a while; it doesn't go away.
This leads me to believe that considering clutter is targeting the possible. I'm adding it to the list.
There must be a reason that my eye is drawn to postings on this topic; my soul must be seeking clarity and harmony and a oneness with the inner calm residing beneath the chaos. That's what they promise, anyway. Apparently, surrounding myself with things that bring me joy will keep the crap from accumulating on my desk.
Would that that were so. I seem to love everything I see, here amidst the clutter.
The stack of family photos, awaiting replacement once the holiday decors are put away; my Kindle, my current crochet project, my address book, a crossword puzzle, a book to send to FlapJilly.... and that, denizens is the crux of it all. Everything I mentioned could be put away someplace else. I just don't have it organized in a functional way.
The woman who helped me with my pantry and desk drawers is living a new life in SoCal. She created an organizing miracle: a system which is still neat and useful years later. I had another, less successful, attempt and I'm reluctant to try a third time. This year, I am going to read up on clutter and see if there are tips I can adopt.
I have been thinking about the 15 minutes at a time concept. You may have a gigantic project, but you may only work on it for 15 minutes. You set a timer and when it goes off, you are done. You can come back to the project later, but you have to stop and regroup, first. I think you're supposed to stay with one area until it is finished, so that you recognize that progress is being made, but that may be my own personal overlay. As I said, I've been wrestling with that idea for a while; it doesn't go away.
This leads me to believe that considering clutter is targeting the possible. I'm adding it to the list.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Patience.....
Some resolutions are keepers. And so, once again, I will examine the concept of patience.
It is too much to ask that I resolve to become more patient. Resolutions should target the possible, as TBG phrased it when constructing the sentence was more than I could manage. Target the possible, not ask for the impossible. I know myself all too well - becoming more patient would be frustrating and impossible.
I have held this resolution for over a decade; it comes into play most often in check out lines. I stand behind women (and it's always women) who take each item out of the cart separately, placing each item with care and concern on the conveyor belt, watching each item as it is rung up and flung into a plastic sack (because she never ever ever carries a reusable bag of her own), and then, when the cashier smiles and tells her the total, she takes her purse off her shoulder and begins to look for her checkbook (and it's always a checkbook). And I wait. And I wait. And I wait.
Can you feel the fury rising as I type? Asking me to become patient is patently absurd. It's not in me.
But what is in me is the power to rise above it. I know this is true because there have been moments over the last ten years when I found myself smiling at a situation which normally would send me into a tizzy. Those moments don't happen often, but when they do, they remind me that I am capable of change, that I ought to try harder, that feeling happy is better than being aggravated.
I can make myself happy by imagining a beautiful scene. I listened to a podcast with Esther Sternberg, an immunologist who's done work on the interactions between healing and one's immediate environment. Citing research showing quicker, happier healing when facing a wooded area rather than a brick wall, she wonders why the word placebo is always qualified with just. If it works, why denigrate it? And why can't it be more than a placebo? Why can't it have actual, psychological and physiological effects? Her work on this is fascinating and translational; it goes from the laboratory to the mainstream with little effort.
And so, today, when some fool needed to pull out of the parking lot, cross two lanes of traffic, and end up going ten miles below the speed limit after cutting me off, I pictured the native grasses along Rte 79, with the sun fading and the light glowing in what Little Cuter, in her professional photographer mode, calls the golden hour. I was still furious, but I was smiling through my rage.
This is a resolution worth renewing.
It is too much to ask that I resolve to become more patient. Resolutions should target the possible, as TBG phrased it when constructing the sentence was more than I could manage. Target the possible, not ask for the impossible. I know myself all too well - becoming more patient would be frustrating and impossible.
I have held this resolution for over a decade; it comes into play most often in check out lines. I stand behind women (and it's always women) who take each item out of the cart separately, placing each item with care and concern on the conveyor belt, watching each item as it is rung up and flung into a plastic sack (because she never ever ever carries a reusable bag of her own), and then, when the cashier smiles and tells her the total, she takes her purse off her shoulder and begins to look for her checkbook (and it's always a checkbook). And I wait. And I wait. And I wait.
Can you feel the fury rising as I type? Asking me to become patient is patently absurd. It's not in me.
But what is in me is the power to rise above it. I know this is true because there have been moments over the last ten years when I found myself smiling at a situation which normally would send me into a tizzy. Those moments don't happen often, but when they do, they remind me that I am capable of change, that I ought to try harder, that feeling happy is better than being aggravated.
I can make myself happy by imagining a beautiful scene. I listened to a podcast with Esther Sternberg, an immunologist who's done work on the interactions between healing and one's immediate environment. Citing research showing quicker, happier healing when facing a wooded area rather than a brick wall, she wonders why the word placebo is always qualified with just. If it works, why denigrate it? And why can't it be more than a placebo? Why can't it have actual, psychological and physiological effects? Her work on this is fascinating and translational; it goes from the laboratory to the mainstream with little effort.
And so, today, when some fool needed to pull out of the parking lot, cross two lanes of traffic, and end up going ten miles below the speed limit after cutting me off, I pictured the native grasses along Rte 79, with the sun fading and the light glowing in what Little Cuter, in her professional photographer mode, calls the golden hour. I was still furious, but I was smiling through my rage.
This is a resolution worth renewing.
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Guns....
To get them out of the way, first.
I never thought about them very much before one catapulted me into the limelight. After all, short Jewish girls from New York don't get shot..... do they? Until my body intersected with bullets, I knew no one who had ever been shot. Since my perforation, though, my world is peopled with such individuals.
We are old and young and every color of the rainbow and every variation of belief system and we all believe the same thing - some people should not be wielding weaponry.
We come to that conclusion from a variety of political perspectives. There are liberal Jews and Conservative Christians who agree that being excluded from the military for mental health reasons should be sufficient evidence that one's right to bear arms should be abridged. After all, if an organization created to use weapons of death decides that you should not be around those weapons, even within the confines of their institution, why should the rest of us allow you to walk around, armed to the teeth?
Yes, I know that making and creating that list raises the hackles of many, but the same kinds of lists exist for drivers' licenses and marriage licenses and pet ownership and, somehow, the world manages to revolve on its axis, skewed neither left nor right by the maintenance of a registry of those who live in connubial bliss or drive atop our (crumbling) infrastructure or take Pooch to the park.
If Second Amendment supporters cannot agree that the military knows more about weapon safety than they do, there is truly no arguing the point. It seems pretty straight forward to me - if the Army doesn't want you, Cabella's should sell you a gun.
There are lists and registries and procedures in place, but the funding is lacking, the reporting sporadic, and so shooters like ours stroll into and out of the gun sellers with impunity. Ours, like so many others, was a preventable crime, if only the existing rules had been followed.
That fact alone makes me crazy.
I don't believe that our shooter had the mental capacity or social skills to acquire an illegal weapon; he was barely able to manage his activities of daily living. And then, there were the bullets. There were two, legally mandated, opportunities to thwart his rampage; the system failed and Christina-Taylor died.
Are we really that much safer in the ten years since the assault weapons ban was not renewed?
Extended magazines give bad guys more bullets than law enforcement; where is the logic in that?
If the Marines start marching down your street, do you honestly believe that you and your stockpile of weapons can stop them?
I signed up for a monthly donation to Gabby and Mark's Americans for Responsible Solutions, because their strategy works. I will create an easy to find list of my representatives on the state and local levels, on paper and on-line. I am wearing my orange American flag pin on my sweater today, and I will wear it every day from now on. I am conquering my fear and making a stand.
What will you do?
I never thought about them very much before one catapulted me into the limelight. After all, short Jewish girls from New York don't get shot..... do they? Until my body intersected with bullets, I knew no one who had ever been shot. Since my perforation, though, my world is peopled with such individuals.
We are old and young and every color of the rainbow and every variation of belief system and we all believe the same thing - some people should not be wielding weaponry.
We come to that conclusion from a variety of political perspectives. There are liberal Jews and Conservative Christians who agree that being excluded from the military for mental health reasons should be sufficient evidence that one's right to bear arms should be abridged. After all, if an organization created to use weapons of death decides that you should not be around those weapons, even within the confines of their institution, why should the rest of us allow you to walk around, armed to the teeth?
Yes, I know that making and creating that list raises the hackles of many, but the same kinds of lists exist for drivers' licenses and marriage licenses and pet ownership and, somehow, the world manages to revolve on its axis, skewed neither left nor right by the maintenance of a registry of those who live in connubial bliss or drive atop our (crumbling) infrastructure or take Pooch to the park.
If Second Amendment supporters cannot agree that the military knows more about weapon safety than they do, there is truly no arguing the point. It seems pretty straight forward to me - if the Army doesn't want you, Cabella's should sell you a gun.
There are lists and registries and procedures in place, but the funding is lacking, the reporting sporadic, and so shooters like ours stroll into and out of the gun sellers with impunity. Ours, like so many others, was a preventable crime, if only the existing rules had been followed.
That fact alone makes me crazy.
I don't believe that our shooter had the mental capacity or social skills to acquire an illegal weapon; he was barely able to manage his activities of daily living. And then, there were the bullets. There were two, legally mandated, opportunities to thwart his rampage; the system failed and Christina-Taylor died.
Are we really that much safer in the ten years since the assault weapons ban was not renewed?
Extended magazines give bad guys more bullets than law enforcement; where is the logic in that?
If the Marines start marching down your street, do you honestly believe that you and your stockpile of weapons can stop them?
I signed up for a monthly donation to Gabby and Mark's Americans for Responsible Solutions, because their strategy works. I will create an easy to find list of my representatives on the state and local levels, on paper and on-line. I am wearing my orange American flag pin on my sweater today, and I will wear it every day from now on. I am conquering my fear and making a stand.
What will you do?
Monday, December 28, 2015
What Happened
It was really really really cold.
Big Cuter and I covered the plants on Christmas night, and the sheets were still there tonight, Sunday, as TBG and I took out the recycling and the trash. I love my sweaters, the few which have survived years of closet purging, and that's a good thing. I had many opportunities to wear them this week.
When it's warmer in Illinois than it is in Arizona, it's time to consider that global climate change may just be a reality.
*****
New thoughts were considered.
Big Cuter brought us Slate's notion that a chubby, white, bearded man as the icon of the season excludes most of the population. Why should Santa be another instance of reinforcing I'm different?
Of course, the article suggests replacing the fellow in red with a penguin...... and I'm sorry, but that just doesn't work for me.
*****
Social justice made an appearance.
Let Santa give your kids the modest gifts; tag the expensive ones From Mom and Dad. Not every family can afford new iPads; don't add a layer of confusion to a poor child's Christmas morning as he wonders why Santa dropped a big screen tv off at Richie Rich's house while he got a bag of M&M's.
I don't remember where I heard it, but it stopped me in my tracks. It's a simple fix, requiring little if any mental gymnastics. It's something that's obvious, once it's mentioned. It's kind of embarrassing that I didn't think of it years ago.
*****
Old friends made a surprise appearance.
TBG and I have spent many Christmases with the Golden Gopher. We walked to the Episcopal church just down Fullerton, in the snow, caroling with TBG's parents, one Christmas Eve in the 1970's, and we welcomed him and Mrs. Gopher this year for dinner with our son. The Gophers were on vacation in Tucson, and we all agreed that the best gift we could share was being together.
There's something beyond wonderful about 40 plus years of holiday memories.
*****
Big issues were discussed.
The Golden Gopher took on Governor Ice Cream over his knee-jerk reaction to the resettlement of refugees..... in a newspaper interview. The kerfuffle was meaningless - it was all bluster and no action - but noses were put out of joint and ripples were felt.
We all agreed that one of the best parts of getting older is the opportunity to retire.
*****
Much love was shared.
Friends and neighbors and teachers and family..... brownies were given and hugs were taken and there's still more joy to come. I'm in a retrospective mood, considering the past, looking at how it will impact my future. Listen in over this week as I make a plan.
Big Cuter and I covered the plants on Christmas night, and the sheets were still there tonight, Sunday, as TBG and I took out the recycling and the trash. I love my sweaters, the few which have survived years of closet purging, and that's a good thing. I had many opportunities to wear them this week.
When it's warmer in Illinois than it is in Arizona, it's time to consider that global climate change may just be a reality.
*****
New thoughts were considered.
Big Cuter brought us Slate's notion that a chubby, white, bearded man as the icon of the season excludes most of the population. Why should Santa be another instance of reinforcing I'm different?
Of course, the article suggests replacing the fellow in red with a penguin...... and I'm sorry, but that just doesn't work for me.
*****
Social justice made an appearance.
Let Santa give your kids the modest gifts; tag the expensive ones From Mom and Dad. Not every family can afford new iPads; don't add a layer of confusion to a poor child's Christmas morning as he wonders why Santa dropped a big screen tv off at Richie Rich's house while he got a bag of M&M's.
I don't remember where I heard it, but it stopped me in my tracks. It's a simple fix, requiring little if any mental gymnastics. It's something that's obvious, once it's mentioned. It's kind of embarrassing that I didn't think of it years ago.
*****
Old friends made a surprise appearance.
TBG and I have spent many Christmases with the Golden Gopher. We walked to the Episcopal church just down Fullerton, in the snow, caroling with TBG's parents, one Christmas Eve in the 1970's, and we welcomed him and Mrs. Gopher this year for dinner with our son. The Gophers were on vacation in Tucson, and we all agreed that the best gift we could share was being together.
There's something beyond wonderful about 40 plus years of holiday memories.
*****
Big issues were discussed.
The Golden Gopher took on Governor Ice Cream over his knee-jerk reaction to the resettlement of refugees..... in a newspaper interview. The kerfuffle was meaningless - it was all bluster and no action - but noses were put out of joint and ripples were felt.
We all agreed that one of the best parts of getting older is the opportunity to retire.
*****
Much love was shared.
Friends and neighbors and teachers and family..... brownies were given and hugs were taken and there's still more joy to come. I'm in a retrospective mood, considering the past, looking at how it will impact my future. Listen in over this week as I make a plan.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Merry Merry Happy Happy
By now, this is an annual tradition.
Sing well, denizens, and keep shining your light.
I give you, today, my all-time favorite Xmas carol, Sing well, denizens, and keep shining your light.
courtesy of Walt Kelly and Pogo.
Sing loudly and lustily to the tune of Deck the Halls.....
Deck us all with Boston Charlie,
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Walla Walla, Wash., an' Kalamazoo!
Nora's freezin' on the trolley,
Swaller dollar cauliflower alley-garoo!
Don't we know archaic barrel
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!
Lullaby Lilla Boy, Louisville Lou?
Trolley Molly don't love Harold,
Boola boola Pensacoola hullabaloo!
Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you!
Polly wolly cracker 'n' too-da-loo!
Donkey Bonny brays a carol,
Antelope Cantaloupe, 'lope with you!
Hunky Dory's pop is lolly gaggin' on the wagon,
Willy, folly go through!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo!
Willy, folly go through!
Chollie's collie barks at Barrow,
Harum scarum five alarm bung-a-loo!
Dunk us all in bowls of barley,
Hinky dinky dink an' polly voo!
Chilly Filly's name is Chollie,
Chollie Filly's jolly chilly view halloo!
Hinky dinky dink an' polly voo!
Chilly Filly's name is Chollie,
Chollie Filly's jolly chilly view halloo!
Bark us all bow-wows of folly,
Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof, woof!
Tizzy seas on melon collie!
Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, goof, goof
(Picture is from Robert Sabuda's The Night Before Christmas Pop-Up Book)
Double-bubble, toyland trouble! Woof, woof, woof!
Tizzy seas on melon collie!
Dibble-dabble, scribble-scrabble! Goof, goof, goof
(Picture is from Robert Sabuda's The Night Before Christmas Pop-Up Book)
Thursday, December 24, 2015
It's Christmas Eve
And I am up at 6:20am to go to the eye doctor.
Sometimes, being a Jewish girl helps on Christmas Eve. I have no childhood memories of my own to honor.
So I go to have dilated pupils, see Star Wars, and play with Amster and the kids and my big kid.
Happy Happy.
Merry Merry.
Sometimes, being a Jewish girl helps on Christmas Eve. I have no childhood memories of my own to honor.
So I go to have dilated pupils, see Star Wars, and play with Amster and the kids and my big kid.
Happy Happy.
Merry Merry.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Three Days and I'm Boring Myself
Hillary's looking motherly. Trump is looking angry. Ted Cruz is looking creepy.
My tree is looking lovely. My son on the couch is a delightful sight. My husband's smile as he watches me elf-ing warms the cockles of my heart.
And so, with my last gift wrapped and delivered, I'm taking the night off.
Have a lovely day, denizens. Keep searching for the light; I do believe it is all around us.
*****
If you want to read some more, click on over to where Big Cuter and I were, 5 years ago yesterday, listening to the Tuvan Throat Singers.
My tree is looking lovely. My son on the couch is a delightful sight. My husband's smile as he watches me elf-ing warms the cockles of my heart.
And so, with my last gift wrapped and delivered, I'm taking the night off.
Have a lovely day, denizens. Keep searching for the light; I do believe it is all around us.
*****
If you want to read some more, click on over to where Big Cuter and I were, 5 years ago yesterday, listening to the Tuvan Throat Singers.
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Four Days to Christmas - Consolidating My Gains
I drove up to Mesa/Gateway Airport this morning, picking up Big Cuter and meeting TBG at the Premium Outlet Mall near home for lunch four hours later. It was peaceful in the car, listening to Pandora's Holiday Jazz channel and cruise controlling along at 6 miles above the speed limit.
The three cars racing one another outside Casa Grande were sitting sheepishly on the side of the road several miles after they zoomed past me. The cavalcade of motorcycles flying giant American flags, flashing lights, accompanying a big white hearse and official cars with blinking Mars Bars on their roofs speeding by us in the other direction caused all of us to slow down, just a touch.
With those two exceptions, everyone was staying to the right, passing on the left, obeying the somewhat-expanded speed limit. The sun was overhead, there was no breeze to speak of, and my boy was behind the wheel.
It was a lovely, lovely, morning.
We shopped for TBG, I did some last minute gift grabbing, and I came home to five packages awaiting. This year's White House ornament (Calvin Coolidge's tree) along with snacks and treats and boxes for under our tree, taped and wrapped and filled with love.
Now Big Cuter is out with a friend, TBG is watching Monday Night Football, and I am eyeing the last few presents in need of wrapping. I have four books to read, no more brownies to bake, and sunshine in the forecast.
Life is good.
The three cars racing one another outside Casa Grande were sitting sheepishly on the side of the road several miles after they zoomed past me. The cavalcade of motorcycles flying giant American flags, flashing lights, accompanying a big white hearse and official cars with blinking Mars Bars on their roofs speeding by us in the other direction caused all of us to slow down, just a touch.
With those two exceptions, everyone was staying to the right, passing on the left, obeying the somewhat-expanded speed limit. The sun was overhead, there was no breeze to speak of, and my boy was behind the wheel.
It was a lovely, lovely, morning.
We shopped for TBG, I did some last minute gift grabbing, and I came home to five packages awaiting. This year's White House ornament (Calvin Coolidge's tree) along with snacks and treats and boxes for under our tree, taped and wrapped and filled with love.
Now Big Cuter is out with a friend, TBG is watching Monday Night Football, and I am eyeing the last few presents in need of wrapping. I have four books to read, no more brownies to bake, and sunshine in the forecast.
Life is good.
Monday, December 21, 2015
Five Days Before Christmas
These ornaments need hangers.
I could unfurl paperclips
(in homage to Daddooooo's ingenuity)
and, perhaps, I will.
For now, I am dealing with this:
The remnants of my elfing to date.
I am finished, having done as much as I can do.
I will pack up the Hanukkah stuff,
but I will leave the rest for any elves who might wander through between now and Thursday night.
I will take TBG to the outlet stores tomorrow;
he will choose athletic wear which I will then purchase and wrap.
He'll lift and spin in perfect comfort, having chosen exactly what he wanted.
He'll do the same for me at my favorite local boutique,
sitting in the same comfy chair he occupies each year,
selecting an I'd-never-buy-it-for-myself-sweater
that I surprise myself by wearing everywhere for the next year.
There's not a lot of surprise,
and that's just fine with us.
*****
This is the 27 year old paper plate angel made by Little Cuter.
I never looked at it without remembering our friends' basement,
the kids at little tables and big tables,
glue and glitter and sparkly paper everywhere.
The grown ups were upstairs,
but the fun and the really good snacks were in the basement.
Deadline is Today for 4 Free Disney Passes
If you go to the Jean Knows Cars Facebook page, you'll see that she is offering four one-day Disney Park passes to the winner of the Tell Me A Road Trip story contest.
I know Jean. This is not a scam.
There are a couple of interesting stories already written; why not add yours?
The deadline is MONDAY DEC 21.
I know Jean. This is not a scam.
There are a couple of interesting stories already written; why not add yours?
The deadline is MONDAY DEC 21.
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