All my personalities are PERFECT

Oh my word it has been so longgggg.
As I sit here and glance out at the house that looks as though it is falling down around me, I think, blog - really? How about clean? BUT it has just been too damn long and I have come to realize, the mess will be here day after day. HA ! Something I can count on !!!!!
Anyhooooo, I just posted what I thought was a hilarious facebook post, the arguing in my head of my split personalities. Now, I don't actually have a split personality BUT I do, like everyone have facets. I have a over achiever who gets orgasmic at the mention of a worthy challenge and then I have chubby Debbie (GOD I HATE THAT NAME) who whines that she can't do anything. (She was created by my Mother so so so so long ago when I could only eat desert on Sunday because I was, you got it chubby.) Whatev....
My point is to not write about the girls but rather to write that some people will surely scoff and go WOW that chick is so unhinged and wrong.
This has been happening to me most of my life. And I say, guess what I say?????
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT ME.
And the sweetest part, is that it's true, not just words. You see, I have come to learn to be who I am and embrace the spastic, crazy BEAUTIFUL messiness that is me. At bare bones, it is all truth and I don't put on. What you see is what you get.
And I only care how I FEEL about it, what anyone else feels is their business not mine.
I heard a song the other day, driving in my silly bumper sticker littered truck by the artist who graces not only the outside of my 4runner but the inside too, my girl PINK. The song is called (and don't read if profanity offends you) Fuckin Perfect....
Made me think of me first and then my BF Mary second. There are a lot of songs out there that we believe are written exclusively for and about us, this one now graces my list up somewhere close to the top. The words to this song, are words Mary has said to me, over and over and over.....(to infinity and beyond)....
Now I love PINK. I mean love her with all my heart. I believe, she may just be the most talented girl in the world and really,  I want to be her. Every morning when I wake up. I go "pink check? - shit, still Deb UGH" - hell at this point,  I would settle to just be her trapeze....She is my girl idol and I worship her. Not only is she an AMAZING vocalist, her MESSAGE is ON POINT. She is a bad ass, take no shit, take it or leave it, kinda girl. My kinda woman.
I may be getting off track a bit or a lot but, recently Emma was singing "you can have whatever you like" while doing some Beyonce looking Bootie drop and I almost had a massive stroke and died on the spot.....I called she and Matthew to an emergency family meeting and began to explain to them about personal responsibility with their own bodies and jokes and dances and whatever etc. etc. - I mimicked Emma....You can have whatever you like and stuck my ass out and around and I said "NO NO NO NO NO EMMA" - NO!!!!!
It's like this my Daughter "SO WHAT I'M STILL A ROCK STAR AND I DON'T NEED YOU" while popping my guns and gritting my teeth for emphasis.....Her message is my message..... Emma is not going to be a stupid girl flipping her blonde hair back and pushing up her bra like that....Not if I have my say and PINK has hers.
Sometimes being the girl that sticks out like an misunderstood sore thumb instigates people to talk trash about you and make false assumptions. Sometimes being unique makes others seethe and have to spit venom for lack of anything nice to say. Sometimes not looking like everyone else will make you a slut for lack of anything more inventive to say...Sometimes not getting out of your car at the bus stop for hen clucking makes you stuck up (no really, I don't like the gossip is all) Most times you have to say WHATEVER and do what makes you YOU.
And so I am grateful to have my facets argue, it makes for entertainment and a constant high bar for me to get over (Insert When Harry Met Sally Orgasms noises here) I am grateful for friends who tell me all the time I am fuckin perfect just the way I am and for female Idols who write songs for me to have for personal anthems that I crank while I sit in my car at the bus stop....
And for the record I have slept with less people than you and yes, my boobs sag.

 PINK- FUCKIN PERFECT


Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around

Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me!

You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred...such a tired game
It's enough! I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same


Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing

You're f*ckin' perfect to me

The whole world's scared so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line, and we try try try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They dont like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves, and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?

Why do I do that..?

Yeah, oh, oh baby, pretty baby..!
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect!
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me..

safety in numbers, mine is 4....

Good Morning All,
In the middle of the night last night, my beautiful, sweet, sensitive little daughter Emma Claire came furiously climbing up the center of my bed as though she were being chased. She woke me very suddenly and apologetically, explaining expediently that she had a nightmare that she had been kidnapped. She said and I quote "It was just awful Mumma and I can't stop thinking about it, I think I might need you to hold me".....
For me, fear or illness in my children triggers my Maternal instinct like nothing else. I could have been accepting the Nobel peace prize at that very moment and I would have dropped it immediately to free up my arms to wrap tightly around her. I held her into my chest, squeezing her, she was shaking like a brittle autumn leaf in the wind and I had to literally contain her to dull the quaking. I could feel her heart beating, it was dangerously fast and mine beat in time with hers, my fear spiking too.
I don't ever want a police officer to ask me for a picture of Emma to post on an Amber alert. It is the understatement of the century to say I would not do well with a missing child.....
(I don't want to go there)
My point for writing about this experience is simply that I was thinking about children and their fear a lot last night and I thought it was blog worthy, thought worthy, hug worthy even.
Yesterday my friend Steph called asking if I was available to keep her baby daughter Sydney for a few hours while she took her husband Scott to the urologist (poor guy had kidney stones - ouch) I was happy to take Syd as she is quite possibly the sweetest baby since Emma. Stephanie came and dropped her off and all was  just fine until about ten minutes in when Sydney looked around my house and realized that Mommy and Daddy were no where to be found....Her bottom lip began to suck in and out with her heaving deep breaths and her big innocent eyes welled with pools of tears. She looked and looked and heaved and heaved....Her sad face was killing me. I was holding her and rubbed my hand over her soft baby hair and I said "I know honey it's scary isn't it" - children find their safety in their parents, period. Sydney knows me very well and actually really does love me, about a minute into the sad face and the hair stroking she head planted on my shoulder and sighed as if to say, okay I guess I am okay for now. The rest of our time was full of crawling hide and seek games, laughing, chewing plastic straws and pretty much baby fun.
When Scott and Steph returned to retrieve their bundle of love and she saw them, heard their voices as they talked with Kevin in the next room even, her face literally lit up light someone had flipped on her switch. She was like a little glo-worm, her joy and comfort elevated to a level that can only be felt while in the midst of the Rents and her smile in turn, lit up my kitchen.
God being a MOTHER is the best thing ever. It really is something else to be another human beings safe place....I feel privileged that whoever it is that makes these decisions thought me capable enough to give me four opportunities to FEEL this and BE this.
Our kids need us to be worthy.... It is so easy in the midst of busyness and craziness to overlook what we mean to our kids. It is so easy to just drive them here and there, fold their laundry and nag them to take out the trash, so easy to take for granted that they are here and we are here with them.
Kids love us as much as we love them. And that's all I have to say because I am crying now.
My advice for the day Moms and Dads, revel in that you = safety for your children. Revel in that they are safe. Hold them like I held Emma, like I am sure Steph held Sydney. Hold them tight tight tight. It's quite something this bond, it's quite something to be the everything to someone who is your everything.

The little things

Good late afternoon/early evening,
Today I went for my very first outside run of 2011. I am ashamed to say that I haven't done a legit run, in I don't know how long, I would guesstimate maybe over a year or more....Dumb. Today was more of a walk/run, I pretty much interval trained for about three miles. OH MY GOD, it felt so GOOD. I mean it felt awful too don't get me wrong... My ass muscles and calves are throbbing intensely and my right hip is apparently pissed off because it keeps pinching sharp and sudden, like a quick I HATE YOU !!!!
Too f'n bad hip, you've been lazy too long.
While I was out and about in the hood today, I was meditating in my head on how much gratification I enjoy from the simplest things in life. Today I found it in working muscles, Jason Mraz on the pod and the sunshine bathing everything in the most perfect golden and sparkletastic light. A bonus as I walked/ran, I couldn't help but notice Willoughby's big furry ass a few paces in front of me just jiggling away. This sight was laugh worthy enough all on it's own, but when I realized that his ass cheeks moved in perfect syncopation with the Latin beats of the song blasting in my headphones, I was flooded with so much joy that my reaction was to stop and hug my dog.
An elderly man fetching his mail, looked at me rather disapprovingly. His face read, "you have a screw loose", but I paid no matter because my big, beloved fur ball was hugging me back and all you need is love, love is all you need....
As I approached this new year and thought about resolutions, I spent a lot of quiet contemplative time in my head considering SIMPLICITY. I also pondered how I could acquire a state of mind that would keep me from wanting THINGS that I don't really need and instead choose to be mindful/appreciative of what I already possess that is satisfying.  On January 1st, I set forth with a strong ambition to love my life, simply because I HAVE one.
Today I was super successful in that endeavor, finding a walk outside with my dog and lunch at school with my kids has left me feeling serene.
I hope I have good health this year and I hope that I live to see 2012, because if I am fortunate enough to enjoy the next 359 days, I am feeling confident that my enjoyment level is going to be off the hook....

spoon me

Hey hey hey,
About a decade ago in one of the very first seasons of survivor (back when I watched TV), I recall a challenge that was insane and ridiculously grueling (something over water- hanging upside down or some shit) - anyways, the prize that the tribes were battling for, was a food item from back home in the states. Now although I have never been starving in the jungle myself,  I can easily imagine that when you are pretty much wasting away and have resorted to eating bugs and rotisserie rodents, (next to eating a cast mate), risking death for a jar of peanut butter is the only thing that makes any real sense. I remember watching the winner of the challenge shovel hand scoops of peanut butter in his mouth, eyes rolling back and looking a little like a near death experience or sexual climax or BOTH was occurring.
I can so relate to that feeling. I love me some peanut butter, like really really really love it, for me, it's a cure-less illness....
If a gun was suddenly jammed to my temple and I was asked "what can't you live without?" - sorry kids, I would say immediately, without reservation or hesitation, the creamy Peter Pan...If I were packing up for my trip to solitude island, in the backpack with the ipod and my copy of Khalil Gibran's "The Prophet", would go the peanut butter, and not a jar either, the big ass tub from Sam's Club...
My love affair with creamy, peanutty perfection began as a child, in my friend Tanya Cullen's house where the PB&J was a regular occurrence and during the summer months I ate lunch at her house quite frequently. I was an only child until I was 18, Tanya however was the oldest of like a million little brothers, her mother was in a constant state of pregnancy throughout my entire childhood, no seriously, she was...Noon to One p.m. in the Cullen household was more like entertainment/education hour than lunch, in hindsight I should have paid more attention and joined the convent straight out of high school....Tanya's Mom Kathy, made lunch assembly line style on the kitchen counter that stretched out like a highway. She lined up two endless rows of wonder bread and with a baby hanging on her hip, (literally balancing for dear life on her very pregnant belly), she would slap peanut butter and jelly down in ginormous blobs of goodness. Then with the backside of a big wooden spoon, she would go back down the line again smoothing everything like a Zamboni. The great thing about her technique was that it was completely sloppy and even sloppier on days when the baby was fussing or she was just plain on the verge of a breakdown. Her slop was our glory.
I remember her so well, dark hair falling loosely from a pony tail, sweat on her brow, pale and pasty, always looking like she could use a carton of cigarettes and a liter of Jack Daniels, it's truly amazing she survived her life....Stressed out Kathy Cullen's sandwiches were the best part of my summer days and trained my taste buds to identify peanut butter as comfort. To this day, as a forty year old woman, peanut butter = my #1 comfort food....
As I grew into a young woman I kept up the PB&J trend, most notably during my second pregnancy with my son Kevin. For nine long months, at 12:15 on the dot, I would eat one sandwich with plain lays potato chips, one banana, a glass of milk and two oreo's. Pregnant lunch became very ritualistic for me, from the split top brand wheat bread to the number of licks to annihilate the cream filling of my cookies. Crazy... My fav peanut butter of choice has always been Peter Pan, although I'll do any and all. I definitely do not discriminate based on labels, if it says PEANUT and BUTTER it goes in the pie hole, nuff said....
Now a days I like my peanut butter first thing in the morning on perfectly toasted whole wheat bread. I love it warm and melty, and if I so choose to layer it with nutella, I get especially excited when it swirls together like a tie dye t-shirt, MMMMmmmmm GOOD, pretty on the eyes and great on the tongue too. Chocolate, hazelnut and peanut butter....Can I hear an AMEN????
And so, as I pause from writing this blog to pour my glass of red and put together my spinach salad as the dinner hour approaches, I am salivating for none of what I have before me.... Instead I find Peter is taunting me from the cabinet. Think I'll just go grab a spoon and show him who's boss. After all, it's best solo and straight out the jar to the lips...Really, why waste time on the bread???

No boys allowed

Good Morning Peeps,
Well I hope your morning has been better than mine, but we won't get into that. I am however going to man bash a bit, so....If you are in love or especially sensitive to the male race, you may want to stop reading here.
Here is my issue.....I no longer have the patience or desire to deal with anyone with a penis...Really  I would like to inhabit a island in the middle of nowhere, cage a few men for the sole purpose of pro-creation and establish a chick country/village where I can live in peace, understanding and harmony. I am fully aware that at first it may get a little hormonal, but soon enough everyone would be on the same cycle and we could have rage support groups in place and ready as we approach our monthly beloved menses time.
Okay STOP and breathe...
Here's my question? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON IN THEIR SKULLS????
Do they think, and if so, what about? Cause it sure as shit isn't what I am thinking about.... I think of myself as extremely logical - a problem solver and a cut to the chase kind of girl. And okay, I admit it, a fairly deep thinker....Please Please Please someone tell me that a man exists on the planet that will get right to the heart of a REAL issue rather than beating around a pointless bush and babbling shit that is ego based rather than reality based. OMG I can't take it anymore.
Okay STOP....
I love men, I do.
 Although to be honest, I think I love the IDEA of men more than actual men,  this is where I run into major issues and problemos.
I desperately want there to be men I get, men I can talk to, men that are well intentioned, I just don't know where they are.... NORMAL MEN ARE YOU OUT THERE????
I don't understand what, for the love of God is so difficult about the communication between men and women. Are we really that different that the divorce rate is at like a staggering 57% in this country because we just cannot make love flow ??? Why why why why why is it so hard for men and women to get along?
AND what exactly do men want? DO they know themselves?
Cause some of them say they want marriage and then cheat like rabid dogs. Some say they don't want a wife but then sleep with the masses and complain that they are lonelier than ever. I find they mostly say one thing, mean the opposite and then get pissed off that we don't understand what the hell they are talking about....Who has time to reverse psychology the hell out of every single exchange to then deal with the disappointment, when in the end it is primarily about the man muscle anyways??? NOT ME.
I'm bitter, I know.
I have had a few great men in my life. My step father for one, a SAINT. A good man, a solid heart of gold, a great listener, provider, friend etc. etc....BUT, most of the men I have had contact with suck.
For example (and we will go with strangers rather than anyone personal), this well dressed, good looking man is shopping in my store recently. He asks for an opinion about earrings for his wife. I hold them up do my sales girl dance, we laugh yada yada typical shit. He is unsure about the very expensive jewels and I tell him not to judge them based on my modeling, I am particularly hideous that day as I was up all night with puking children. I joke, maybe tomorrow I will look better.....HE COMES BACK THE NEXT DAY. He tells me I look better yes, and then asks me if I ever get to D.C.(he is an attorney there), I say yup, sister in college at CUA yadayada. I am ringing up earrings for his WIFE mind you and he says, "I'll be really upset if you don't come see me next time you're in my area"....I say "I can't imagine your WIFE would like that" and he says "NO BUT SHE'LL LIKE THE EARRINGS" !!!!!!!!
Makes me want to be with a woman, like seriously, or a spinster for all of eternity....
Oh MANNNN I am frustrated today.....Frustrated not only by Morons who think I am attracted to their super size inflated ego's, but also because I am soooo out numbered in my home of MAN BOYS and find myself  constantly confused by their idiotic behavior, laziness and lack of consideration.

Come on boys step it up, get your shit together please.... We girls of substance expect something substantial between the ears and do NOT for your information, enjoy wet towels on the floor....
I really do love men, really I do.....Today however I feel a tad witchy, it would benefit me greatly to not come in contact with anyone who has testosterone.
An estrogen island somewhere and ovulatory rage counseling, oh my....sigh

foot for thought

So today, as I was driving home from work, I was thinking quite intensely about feet. Weird right??? Although that seems particularly random (even to me), the foot thoughts were triggered by my car stereo, Dave was totally destroying a live version of SEVEN. The words and vibe of this song had me immediately day tripping on summer (what else is new?) I was poolside in my favorite low chair, legs spread out before me, neon pink toes reaching towards the sky, the horizon line of the deep end and the summer landscape. I wished so bad I was sweating profusely down the front of my bikini top and that my fish belly white feet were tan.
I am not a big fan of the feet, especially when they are winterized...
Winterized = socked, neglected, unpolished, pale...yuck
I have to admit, as far as feet go, somehow I got blessed with pretty cute ones (even November thru March). I have been told my feet are especially pretty, sexy even???
Now they are rather slender, and as of yet, are pretty smooth and lacking in bunyons and other foot funkiness. The "not-hideous" foot comes in handy when sandal wearing, walking barefoot on the beach and apparently when taunting men with foot fetishes....
I have had a few foot stalkers, I swear to God,(ask DANCAM she can attest....)
And here I must pause and say REALLY ???
Anyone with a legit foot fetish is not right in the head in my book. FEET?? REALLY?
I won't completely disagree that a tongue on the foot feels pretty okay, but that is from a receiving end, I can say pretty confidently that I really don't want anyone's feet in my mouth. I can think of so many other tantalizing uses for my lips, teeth and tongue...Just sayin...
Anyhoo, the women in my family are teeny-tiny, slight, petite women except for.... naturally, ME!!! My Mother weighs 100 pounds wet and is lucky to reach five feet tall with a heel to her shoe. My sister Courtney wears 00 (that's a double zero) and a size four kids shoe (she's 20) my other sister Ashleigh is rail thin and eats candy almost constantly. I got so screwed in the skinny gene department. Apparently spawn of  giant and midget equals big boned, big boobed, big hipped chica with bony feet, toes, fingers and wrists....
Why, why not a waist ???
Because I got my Mother's feet, I am constantly breaking my skinny, long ass, sexy toes. They snap like twigs at the slightest stub....It is a constant issue for me, I chalk it up to my Mother's genetic curse. UGH. Damn feet.
I will say, that I prefer my feet to other people's. Other feet make me cringe a little, shit a lot.  I will also admit that a nice foot on a man can cure an ugly face and sometimes a bad personality. A man with a good foot and a good face, RARE.... Feet, yuck.
My poor feet are sad right now, if toes had hearts, all ten of mine would be broken. My feet do not like shoes and socks, period. They are happiest bare and well exfoliated, moisturized and painted.
Right now they look clammy and this is so not sitting well with me. I have left them unpainted now for like two months. I look at them every day when I am peeing on the toilet, head hanging low, and I apologize for my pathetic negligence. My seasonal depression is now taking a toll on my poor toes.
So I have a plan. Tonight, I will talk to them, assure them that summer will come again and just to give them the hope they need to survive the January blah's, I will paint them a summer color....Something neon and fabulous. I may even pull up a pool picture and leave it as my background on the laptop and prop my crossed feet in front of it for good measure....
So that's my thought for the day.
Go paint your toenails or suck someones pinky toe or whatever.... Love some feet today :)

coming out of the tower now....

Howdy and happy New Year to you all,
Did everyone have fun? I certainly hope so...So today, January 1, 2011.... A new year, a whole new chronology of life's relevant moments... Whatever will happen to fill the unfolding blank space this coming 365, and what will we all have to say about it? So much possibility...
I look at most things this way now, as I find myself aging into wisdom, what good or BAD will come my way? I am not a negative person mind you, just realistic and experienced.
This past year I did some serious shit. For the very first time in my life I made a declaration in my head, a statement of positive INTENT and I set forth with my goal in sight. I didn't talk about it much, at least my INTENT, I just privately plugged along at the process and kept saying in my head a personal mantra, like the Little Engine that Could - "I think I can, I think I can"...
To many I said, "Oh I just want to improve" (so bullshittingly humble), but to the head of the English department, I said with swinging balls of confidence, "Oh I don't want to just improve this year, I want to win first place, I want to WIN.
HA- LOVE so MUCH, that I DID.....
For me it wasn't so much about the writing contest as it was my INTENT and persistent follow through to make it happen. First time in my long ass life, the intent materialized into the win.
Admittedly I have a painfully long history of doubting myself out of any and all  good intention.... In lovely 2010, I learned to silence my nagging doubt with solid, fixed intent to win. So take that, eat me, ha, gfy....
And to top off, I banged my finals out the park and pulled off, for the third semester in a row, my beloved 4.0 GPA (yee-f'n-haw) - The grade point average just another hidden agenda.
Recently, my best girl Mary sighs, "eventually you won't get straight A's and then what?" (meaning what will happen to my self esteem, my bar height, my fear of failure paralysis etc.) but I explained to Mary, it isn't about GPA....It isn't about too much pressure on myself, not about the perfect grades. For me in 2010, my GPA and my essay win became about not accepting LESS THAN I AM CAPABLE OF. I told the wifey, "I have been expecting too little of myself my whole life"- GAME OVER.
Unfortunately my balancing act tipped a little too far in the direction of physical gluttony and now I must do battle with my body again. The healthy me, is trapped inside a very over indulgent, unhealthy me. No more. I hate the belly flab, it makes me feel like I might be a typical forty year old. (I keep having dreams about middle aged, stress induced belly flab - it has a name?)  um yeah no thanks, how about I run some stairs with the sweat pouring down my ass crack instead???
So, my New Years resolution will be the same as every other woman signing hope into a new years gym contract - Lose this 20 pounds and resume life as a bad ass - one who also knows a perfect (for now) grade point average and the meaning of purposeful intention <3
But what else??? What else can I do???
I will attempt to reign in all areas of excess, especially with possessions and food. I have too much, and too many, have too little and it bothers me tremendously. In 2010, after constantly feeding the homeless on the downtown mall, after being haunted by their presence, I took a good look at my closet and vomited. Truth is, no one really gives a shit what I look like, my beauty is inner..... I HAVE TOO MUCH SHIT and too little security because I am an over active, mindless consumer. The fact that I can make a statement like that, TOO MUCH SHIT and too little SECURITY is a GIFT. I have a choice to spend, some people have no choice but concrete beds.
I dislike. I am part of the problem/monster and I want to change that. I want to be selfless and save people. That is what pleases me most, lifting up those who have been leveled by some heartbreak or another.
New Years Resolution - REIGN IN EXCESS.
Chocolate chip cookies at Rev soup? NO !!! Two bucks in my pocket thanks and I think I will go for a run with Mr. A-Z instead :)
Instead of shop, maybe volunteer at the homeless shelter, maybe teach my kids to save the world since my years are dwindling...
In 2011, I would also love to get my shit together enough to finally write the CANARY MEMOIRS and learn to do a reasonable flip turn without swallowing 60% of the pool. I'd Love to spend five minutes in real time with my muse, hear about her life, realizations, new goals, hear her laugh. I want to spend Christmas and New Years 11 with the wife and kids, want to take the beach trip for Dyer's 40th. Want to PH for an extended visit, rub cream on some needy heels, talk at length with Leroi down on the shore and watch the sun set on the ocean tides with the people I love most. Work a foiled pole at WWW and maybe take in some live shows. Learn to salsa dance for real and get through a song in it's entirety with Kevin.....I would really like to hug my friend Tommy and tell him how glad I am that he is upright again :) Hold my Nan's soft hands and pass her the kleenex box. Oh and so so much more....

sigh.....


As always, no matter the year, I will continue to love loud and proud, gushing emotion all over the place. That never changes with time, Thank God.
I hope I continue to be worthy of people like all of you.
I wish all of you reading, a blessed year full of happiness and good health.
Happy Happy New Year xo