Peas in a Pod

There has been a long standing battle situation in our house regarding the sleeping arrangements of a certain soon-to-be-kindergartner. He was never a good sleeper as a baby. As in NE.VER. until we found the magic ingredient of wrapping him cocoon like into an oversized blanket and soothing him to sleep with lots of rocking and shushing and patting and bouncing and singing and swaying and...

In the years since, he has mastered sleeping well and it is now quite easy to put him to bed for naps or nighttime, but the discussion invariably ensues over the WHERE he will sleep and HOW LONG he will stay in the WHERE he should be.

You see, he has a bedroom of his own. With a way cool bed and an even cooler bed cover which he adores (we take it along on all trips and vacations--it is THAT important). But, uh, yeah... he doesn't sleep there. Generally he opts instead for my bed (as in my half of the bed which causes me to contort into all kinds of pretzel shapes in an attempt to get some further shut-eye after his post midnight arrival. Because I should also mention that while he wants to be in my bed he is NOT a snuggler and in his sleep will cast aside any brush of arm or leg against his body. So while we are crammed together like sardines in a can, we are NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH!)

Sometimes, he crawls in next to his brother and occasionally with his sister. Same scenario in each place--as in "I'm crowded, ROLL OVER" and his mandatory bedmate ends up significantly cramped while Drew happily settles into the space available.

The better option we've found for better sleep all around was to put his mattress on the floor at the foot of our bed. Once set up, he quickly dubbed it his "hotel bed" and he happily crawled in at the end of each day to snore the night away.

BUT.

We got the notion that it may not be the BEST idea for him to continually sleep on the floor in the draft so at the end of the school year Don announced to him that he would now be moving back into his own bedroom to sleep (being a BIG BOY now and all) and as Daddy made it sound like such a BIG DEAL and SO MUCH FUN to do so, he went for it. For several weeks (with lots of reminder conversation upon the tuck-in time) he has slept in his own bed, in his own room, all night long! Hoorah!

AND THEN.

Daddy left on vacation with Ian and Emma in tow (they are in the USA on the family/friends/home places tour). So, yeah, there is a wide open space in my bed now where a sleeper used to be. And I ask you, who could resist that?

Our conversation at bedtime last night went something like this:

"Hey Droopers, are you ready for bed?"

"Yah."

"Hmmkay, let's go climb into your bed then, okay?"

"No."

"Yeah, it's time for bed, so let's go get in it."

"Uh, no. Actually I think I'm gonna sleep in your bed."

"Oh, you do, do you?"

"Uh, yeah."

~He held up his five fingers on his left hand and pointed at each in turn as he spoke.

"I think Ian and Emma are on a trip, right?"

"Yep. They are. So they are not here right now. And who else in our family is gone?"

"Ummm... I think it's our dad!"

~He folded down three fingers so only the pointer and thumb remained out-which is the gesture he uses to signify "two". He nodded his head repeatedly and said:

"So, it's just you and me, right mom? Just you and me."

**********

I ask you again, who could resist that?

I tucked him in. To my bed.

this photo taken by 1 Picture A Day

Putting It Forward

If you've been paying attention, you've seen a few changes in the images in my sidebar. (What? You didn't notice? You didn't even look? You have better things to do with your time than stare at my blog page and spot every nuance of change? Shaa. Whatever.)

One of the new buttons over there===>
is for a site called THE BLOGGERS ANNEX. It's new to the net, or newish anyway, and the concept behind it is rather cool. In response to the question "What is the point of this site?" the developers of the Annex say this:

"Basically, the idea is that only the best posts will be published. Our hope is that it will feel like an honor to have something published here. If you have something in your archives that you’re in love with—something you want to give more exposure to, we’d love to take a look at it.

And maybe you don’t really care about submitting something. Maybe you’re just here to read. Because we’ve raised the bar so high, you’ll know that every time you click on the site you’ll find a fantastic post, and maybe meet a writer that you otherwise might not have met."

So. Neato, huh? I heard about the place, checked it out and joined. Because, yeah, I wanted to see if what I write would cut the mustard. I am a little bit self serving and egocentric like that. But you know what? It worked. They like me, they really like me! I submitted some pieces and today I am published there! If'n ya wanna, you can re-read (if you haven't memorized it already with all of the resurfacing this post tends to do!) the succinct announcement of Andrew's diagnosis as a card-carrying member of ASD. The post is here. More about Bloggers Annex is here.

Lots and lots of water has passed under the bridge since that first moment sitting at a table in the clinic hearing that word in association with my kid for the first time. And lots and lots of strength, support and understanding has poured into our lives. And empowerment. But I don't suppose I will ever forget the moment itself, the way life froze and my heart ached as we listened to the expert examiners reveal their findings.

I suppose I still have a lot to say about that.

But for now, it's still just those 11 words. Please tell me you stopped by.

Sublime and Ridiculous

(And really, none of it good.)

Still bucking for the mug.

Haiku Buckaroo contest hosted by My Mommy's Place.

First, the Croatia inspired:

Long shadows follow;

Tired feet carry us home.

Sun-day is over

**************

Wish there was a word

for that slap-thuk-whoo-whoosh sound~

Boats on water

**************

Sun sinking lower

Sky lights orange, yellow, pink

over clear blue ocean

**************

And then the daily vignettes:

Crack, open, pour, whip~

Dip, flip, fry, check, butter, turn!

Open gob. Insert.

**************

Serious? Again?
I burned my hand on the stove!!
Save me from myself!

**************

LAUNDRY! Stand ye warned!

I will conquer, foul monster!

Victory is mine!

***************

Not nearly as fresh

Yet still my lips are smackin'

Leftover spareribs!

****************

While you are sleeping

I watch your breath rise and fall

And I am content.

*****************

And now, the epic haiku:

A bead in your nose?

Please, tell me why you did that?

Unbelievable!

En route to doctor

for removal assistance

I wish you would sneeze!

Open that nostril~

Nothing in there to be seen?

Did you swallow it?

I guess we'll go home

and watch for further symptoms

of nasal blockage.

Please just tell me why

-When I'm parenting alone-

accidents happen?

Finally to sleep

three hours beyond your bedtime

Mama needs a drink!

All Mixed Up

Of the many souvenirs and memory treasures I brought home from Boston, there is one which has risen to the top of my favorite things. This is a big deal, because, hoo-boy I brought a lot of things home from Boston! The physical treasures include a Folbot Kayak for Don, a new Camera (and ultimately a new lens) from Zeff Photo, massive amounts of food treats from the USA, and several (okay, more than several) shiny, pretty things I picked up during the weekend away.

Women in Black

Emotional keepsakes include the night out (and a first meet) with Alex Elliot and Allison for dinner, drinks and lots of great conversation. And of course, the premiere souvenirs of being able to spend time with THE Soccer Mom herself (though to be fair the current sport was baseball) as well as engage in phone conversations with THE Ambassador and THE Cybergoddess.

I tucked all of these finds away in luggage and memory. You might be thinking that this was a weekend packed with experiences which I will linger in for a long, long time.

You would, of course, be correct.

Ah, me.

Last week I got a treadmill for the house. There has been a running (haha!) discussion regarding this purchase for our home and whether the machine would soon become the most expensive clothes hanger in history, or the most massive dust collecting knick-knack we own. I am happy to report that as of ownership day #6 it is neither as my feet and its belt have been in intimate daily contact. It's kind of my new best friend.

This now, is where the revered tiny treasure comes to play. On my last day in Boston, Allison tucked inside my carry on bag a last few special items to bring home. There was the CD crammed with the photos she took of my appearance in her son's classroom to chat with the kids about life in Holland, and there was this:

The birthday CD from her daughter's recent birthday.

Upon this little treasure of "songs that make her dance" are a variety of ab fab tunes which the little darling loves to dance to. Me, I am using this CD as my accompaniment for exercise! And it couldn't be more perfect. Things start out nice and slow with Carole King's Really Rosie and then morph into the action of ABC's Look of Love, moving into Sing by Annie Lennox which really gets my heart moving. Then for a little rest I walk and croon along with Cindy Lauper's True Colors and then pick up the pace again when the music moves me with Erasure's Blue Savannah straight into Abba's Mama Mia. You get the idea here? This darling goldilocks has provided the perfect mix tape to get my body moving too! 57 minutes worth of rhythm and music to be exact.

And I love it.

Every last heart pounding minute.

~~~~~~~~~~~
More music at SMID's place today.

It's Music Monday folks!

**************************************************
Running like the wind
My stationary treadmill
is my new best friend
************************************************
Wait. What's that up there? A Haiku?
Oh, yes, friends it is once again time for the Haiku Buckaroo contest!

Check out the details
over at My Mommy's Place
Start writing Haiku.

You know I will be~
I want to drink my coffee
from that Haiku mug!

Shooting Croatia

I am not. Are you?

Arachnophobic.

click here for the rules.

Leave your link if you're not afraid playing!

Be Still

It is quiet in Croatia.

I don't mean quiet in that reverent hush that fills the great hall of a Gothic cathedral, nor the silence of a sleeping house. The sensation is more akin to a cleansing breath at the end of a long day, the peaceful stillness that enters your brain after a lingering hug, the kind of quiet that subdues the chaos and noise of the everyday stress.

Quiet that fills you with sound.

The home we rented for our stay sits about 100 meters from the ocean. The walk to the water takes only 3 minutes (5 if you are walking with Andrew who tends to move at the speed of his own drum) and even before you arrive you can hear the noises of the beachfront. Waves slapping the boardwalk. Laughter of children playing in the blue, blue water. Low engine noises of jet ski or small boats. Conversation happening en masse in multiple tongues--it is impossible to distinguish the sounds of our own familiar language, let alone differentiate the various dialects and languages being spoken on this beach. And still, it's my own world I am in as we stake out a place on the pebbled shore, lay out blankets, open air rafts, slather sunscreen and join the throng worshipping the sun and enjoying the gifts of the ocean.

And it is quiet.

The evening air is filled with the cacophony of cicadas singing out their woes. It's a sound which fascinates Andrew and he is continually craning his neck to cast his gaze upward to spot what he believes must be an airplane flying low. We talk about the sound they make and the way their skins crack open and get left behind. He thinks that's hilarious and he laughs maniacally at the end of the day over that and almost every random event. He's tired, and his laughter loudly reverberates off the walls of our apartment. Laughter so deep and so contagious it leads to a group effort guffaw, a snort or two, and hilarity induced tears.

Yet, still, this place is quiet.

The village we inhabit is unsullied. There is no commercialism here. No mall, no supermarket sprawl, no Starbucks, and *gasp* not even a McDonald's anywhere nearby. Instead the fields are full of produce planted, cultivated and harvested by local hands. Fresh everything--tomatoes, garlic, onion, peppers, cucumbers, zucchini, potatoes, corn, watermelon, plums, peaches, apples--is sold in small roadside stands along the one paved road in the town. Cars travel this path as do pedestrians. Those on their way to the ocean and those on their way home stop to shop or chat or linger in conversation with others.

The small market, a single street away, holds sundry treasures and grocery staples which make the cooking convenient. I am seized by the desire to instantaneously have the know-how to make local cuisine and follow custom in Croatian tastes and smells. It doesn't come, but still I do what I can to make pasta sauces from the fresh vegetables at hand and open a bottle of wine made from local grapes. That will have to do.

I watch the people of this country, talking to a few as opportunity presents itself, and I am over and again struck by the quiet of this people. The stillness of this life here. It's possible that it's my illusion, my projection of vacation mentality to all those I see, but I am not certain that would explain it all. In truth this country and this people have certainly known tumultuous times. Things I cannot imagine and experiences which have never touched my life have invaded the lives of these people and it has marked them forever. By rights this could be a place of chaos and stress and overwhelming reality. It isn't. In fact it is just the opposite.

It is quiet in Croatia.

Today there is peace and in spite of everything past, this land is unspoiled and these inhabitants are alive and living. Really living.

In the quiet.

What I Did During My Summer Vacation (by Andrew)

More sights, sounds and stories from the week in
Croatia coming your way soon!

we're back.

Something for Saturday

Shopping.

click here for the rules.

D'you need beach shoes too? Link it up if you're playing today.

See y'all on the flip-flop side when I am back from Croatia!

1. Flower Child

2. Goofball

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Summer Lovin'

Having spent a good many of my working years sharing a job/vacation schedule which echoes my children's school year, I have yet to grow out of the anticipation and thrill of arriving at summer vacation.

The school year here in Holland is an extended year lasting roughly 190 school days. And while the schedule is filled with (lovely) intermittent breaks at half-term and semester end the length of the year can feel a bit daunting and the march to "last day" slightly overwhelming.

I made a post-it note countdown on the window frame in my office to see if it would help make the days go faster. It helped a little bit. But still the long term between mid-May and school's end last week felt a bit eternal.

But then it happened. The last day of school arrived and with it some tender goodbyes from our Year 6 students as they will head to the Secondary school in the fall, and lots of well wishes for a restful and fun break from parents and colleagues. Oh, and there were gifts. Many of them in the form of chocolate, and seriously, who couldn't get excited about that?

That was Friday last and with two further days this week to finish up the administration of the year my actual last day of school came on Tuesday of this week.

I am now officially on holiday.

There are travel plans of course, but mostly there are plans to do just...hmmm... nothing. Yes, lots and lots of nothing.

I remember nothing days in my childhood. There was a large group of pine trees at the top of my street in Salt Lake City, Utah. I think it was maybe 5 0r 6 trees in a cluster and all were tall enough that the lowest branches sprouted from the trunk several feet up and then dropped low to the ground creating the perfect natural cave underneath. With a thick blanket of pine needles covering the ground it was a cozy spot for all my imaginative play and tea parties with doll friends. The shade was an ideal respite from summer sun and it was a quiet place of my own to read, or to think, or yeah, to just do nothing. I never was able to coax my mom into letting me sleep out under my tree cave, but I used to dream that I was doing just that and in my dreams it was the sweetest night sleep ever.

Nothing days also included walks to the Winder Dairy to choose ice cream or popsicles from the freezer shelves inside the mini-store.

Nothing days meant swimming at the city pool with all the neighbors in tow. All of us piled into the Ambassador station wagon, hot sweaty legs clad in shorts sticking to the naugahyde seats.

Nothing days were for hamburgers on the grill in the backyard. And spaghetti nights with the Italian family in the corner house.

Nothing days were nothing short of wonderful.

And I am facing now a summer break full of them.

The first part of our holiday will include a full family trip to Croatia after which Don and big kids will head to the U.S. for an extended visit with family and friends. Andrew and I will spend our time here together while they are away and as he and I have contemplated and discussed our "time alone" together in August he has created the list of important things we should do. That list reads like this:

1. Walk to the farm and feed the goats.

2. Go to the Aquarium at the beach.

3. Watch Kung Fu Panda at the movies.

Seems like a perfect summer of nothingness to me.

Picture me blogging from here for the duration:

Celebrate Good Times

School's Out for Summer!
Too many words for a Wednesday (which clearly is a Tuesday)
Wordless Wednesday

You Might Want to Sing it Note for Note

I have long been a diary keeper. A journal-er. A keeper of secrets in writing. What once was recorded between the covers of a spiral bound notebook, now mostly takes place upon the keyboard and monitor, but all the same I like to see my thoughts in written form.

They have never been altogether profound, and frankly a journey through my 8th grade journal would cause nothing short of guffaws and gusty hardy-har-hars if I were to pull it from it's storage box in Arizona and give it a read through. Imagine my 12-year-old Emma's delight to see the names of those boys I loved deeply, desperately and foreverly scribbled in the margins of my entries. (I know I took unbelievable pleasure in reading my mom's diary which we discovered in a hidden box once when my sisters and I were up and coming teens--especially the bits where she was dating my dad. Oh, the joy!)

My journals have never been much of a formal affair and could hardly be relied upon to give accurate blow by blow description of my daily life. Rather, they have been (and this blog continues to be) a place for me to blow off the steam, to record the most memorable feelings, and to stash away the precious keepsakes. In 3-D form, my diary keeping tends to bulge at the binding as I tuck within pages ticket stubs, photographs, drawings and other tokens to spark memories. Not as easily done here in this cyber-space (the sticky tape doesn't seem to hold the pixels) but still I make do with what I've got.

Early in my adult years I tripped across the idea of keeping an ongoing "Love List" in written form and many hand-written entries in the last years have simply been that. A list of the things I love.

Easy to say.

Important to remember.

I like my love lists. It puts everything in perspective in a hurry and keeps me in mind of the simple, beautiful things that make every day a worthwhile investment.

Years ago I had occasion to spend lots of time with a young woman who seemingly didn't have the knack for making love lists, neither internally nor on paper. She was one of those people for whom complaining seemed to bring contentment, and finding the negatives in any given situation brought some sort of warped satisfaction. Not knowing if you know this bit about me, I am going to point out the obvious once again and mention that that? That is not how I roll. I am an inherently happy person, and happy is the condition I most prefer to linger in. GLASS HALF FULL is how I've been described. So, here I was Ms. glass-half-full with Ms. my-glass-is-practically-empty-and-besides-that-there-is-a-fly-stuck-in-the-bottom, my roommate, co-worker and constant companion. (and yes, I do mean 24/7) Things went along just fine for awhile really. I was happy for the two of us and I could cover for her lack of interest in life by painting it a little thick with the Pollyanna vibe. Everything was really peachy. Really. Until it wasn't anymore.

I remember we were driving down a Long Beach highway in between meetings on a Sunday and she sighed deeply over the fact that it looked like it might rain. I followed her gaze through the front window and spotted the single cloud in the sky which for all my knowledge and experience looked nothing at all like a rain cloud And. I. Lost. It. I slammed on the brakes and pulled the car to the side of the road and Let. It. Rip. I don't remember exactly what I said, and I am sure it wasn't gentle in any way but I told her I was tired and she was really going to have to figure out how to be happy in her own right, that I could no longer do it for the both of us. She seemed shocked, dismayed and incredulous.

From that conversation and in the coming days she and I spent a lot of time talking about the idea of happiness, and the idea of finding things to be happy about in spite of whatever might be going on in life, individually or globally. One day not long after that initial brake-squealing discussion we sat down together on the porch of a Manhattan Beach house (no one was home) and wrote (well, I wrote, she dictated) a list of 50 THINGS TO BE THANKFUL FOR. In the end it was a stunning list full of incidental and all-inclusive items which taken in their sum total would make even the saddest heart sing, and taken individually just might bring a smile to a set of down turned lips. If only for a moment. The discovery for her and for me upon that exercise is that the simple things, which we overlook almost completely on a daily basis, are really the things that make all the difference.

My Love List today looks something like this:

• The rain which fell incessantly all morning, cleared this afternoon giving way to gorgeous blue sky and big fluffy white clouds!
• Which made the errand of taking the bottles to the recyclers and hearing the glass smash as Andrew and I tossed them into the abyss even more pleasurable than usual.
• On the way back to our house, we met a cat who let us pet her fur.
• And we saw a baby in his pram getting ready to go for a stroll with Mom and Dad.
• The hours spent in the back garden clearing, trimming, sweeping were hours well spent.
• I love having my hands in the earth.
• After all was said and done, I had to re-clean the wound on my hand from yesterday's scissor accident so I could bandage it back up for better healing.
• I am grateful for band-aids
• And a loving husband who helps me put them on and make them stick to my palm.
• And who didn't even roll his eyes over yet another kitchen accident for the accident prone me, he just swooped in to take care of me and give me sympathy.
• And wipe up blood.
• I love earthworms, caterpillars, snails, rolly pollys and spiders--all of which we encountered in our attack on the overgrown garden. Each of which fascinated my 5-year old Andrew.
• I am grateful for help from 14-year old Ian who cleared away all that I trimmed.
• At the end of it all I toasted the day with a glass of sparkling wine while sitting in the back garden at the table in the sun.

You know, simple pleasures are the best.* Truly.

*Bobby McFerrin

Happy to sing with the Music Monday bunch.

Button above will take you to the others!

Go on now, click it. Click it good.

THIS JUST IN: Result of forceful, accidental contact between a sharp implement (like scissors) and soft flesh (like my hand):

Blood.

click here for the rules.

Typing one handed with me? Send bandaids... er, I mean leave your link for the game.

1. SMID 2. Goofball

3. Anneke 4. Flower Child

5. Jan 6. Kate Forsey

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Radio Silence

Rational:

1. End of school year.
2. More left to do than there is time to do it
3. A little stressed
4. Migraines returning with marked increasing frequency
5. Probably points to A LOT of stress
6. "Jenn, can you help me with this?" most frequent question asked
7. Paint still drying on the teacher gift
8. No more coffee in the tin at home
9. Sleep seems more attractive than blogging
10. at 2 a.m.
11. In the meantime, the photographs go up at Looking Into with regularity
12. Until the queue runs dry
13. Which could happen at any moment
14. But today there is a gorgeous guest post
15. So, quit reading here and go look there.

We'll talk soon.

Sure Sign of My Old Age

bifocals.

click here for the rules.

Can you read this? Are you seeing it clearly?
Leave your link if you're playing. Comments in VERY LARGE LETTERS appreciated.

1. GOOFBALL 2. grace 3. Soccer Mom in Denial

4. Flower Child 5. Anneke 6. Jan

7. DaveH Expat 8. Hotmamamia

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Shooting Brugge

Looking for a larger view? Click the photo for bigifying and ultimate detailarama.

Me, I am off to bed. A weekend away without any children really tires a girl out...

Countdown: 10 School Days Remaining

sigh.

click here for the rules.

Sympathy in the comments section greatly appreciated.
As always, leave your link if you're playing today.

Synmpathy Players:

Goofball

Flower Child

Kate

Res

Anneke

Declaring Independence

Nothing says homesick more than knowing the celebrations back home are just beginning...

Put another hot dog on the grill for me, won't you?

Happy 4th of July!

What To Say

Occasionally, as I have hopped from blog to blog, I find a post here and there exposing how readers find various blogs. (Search engine trackers such as google analytics keep track of such things) Always on the fascinating side, sometimes leaning toward the risque, I have found myself intrigued by the notion and wondering just what it is that leads people here to this page. (I mean of course, aside from my charm, wit, beauty and ultimate humility...)

So, I went to look.

As you might expect with a blog title such as mine and the subjects I cover here in my writing, most of the referral searches were phrased in some variation of "Life in The Netherlands". I suppose it's obvious why such a search might lead someone here, and while that in and of itself isn't a total thrill a minute revelation, what admittedly was just a little on the cool side is the fact that given that particular word search my blog hits at the top of the page. (Thanks google!)

Randomly though, a search for "Serbian Rappers" also brought my personal blog to the front page of listings. I haven't had much to say about Serbian Rappers other than this post, but let's be honest, is there really a whole lot to say about Serbian Rappers? Perhaps, that's why my post ranks near the top of the list when a random someone makes a random search about such a random subject. However, if ever Serbian Rappers take off and hit the big time I will feel proud that I knew them when...

Educationally, someone set a search with the words "What is Karnemelk?". I am not sure what information they gained about Karnemelk by linking here to my blog, but I am happy indeed to answer this question for the inquiring mind: Karnemelk is yucky.
There now, we all feel better with that tidbit of information filed properly, don't we?

Curiously, someone wants to know about "Life in Netherlands not so good, great". I hardly know what to say in response. "Life in Netherlands not so good" may indeed be a phrase that has leaked from my lips on occasion. But so has "Life in Netherlands, great". The latter being more often uttered than the former. My guess is, no matter where you are living you could utter the same set of phrases interchangeably too. But that's life, ain't it?

Laughably, a search for "Nederland in Globe" also led someone here. I am still kind of scratching my head over this one. Just what is it the reader wanted to know? Is the Netherlands on the globe? Why yes, yes it is. It's a small country sure, but most mapmakers and globe builders have indeed heard of the place.
It could be a question regarding Nederlanders as stars of the GLOBEtrotters, maybe. The Dutch are certainly tall enough, and Haarlem was after all a city here first, but alas, this country doesn't play basketball.
Is it Nederland at the GLOBE theatre? Ah, yes, Shakespeare in Dutch! Could a rose not smell as sweet?
How far can I push this?
Nederland in the Boston Globe?
Nederland in Globe Communication?
Nederland in Global Warming?
Okay, I'll stop.

Sweetly, someone inquired "Love Words in Dutch" to which I reply a hearty "ME TOO!" I love words in Dutch! Especially words like Koffiepadapparat and achtentachtig. As to the actual "love words" in Dutch, I remember several Spanish speaking women in my beginners Dutch class going on a rant over the awkwardness of saying I love you in Dutch. I've never gotten over their giggles over the sound of Ik hou van jou and the absolute triumph they felt with the far superior Te quiero of their native tongue.

Lastly, is it wrong that I find it a point of pride that the search "Mama Had a Baby and His Head Popped Off" led more than one reader straight to this page?

These are the things that make me laugh.

So, this is what leads the random readers here. I suppose with the revelation of how they got here it begs the question: what will bring them back again?

Oh, are you still here? Tell me why.

Don't Bother Me

Shoo Fly Tuesday posing as Wordless Wednesday