That Post That Almost Wasn’t

I had a post all planned out in my head, but I don’t think that I can write it tonight.  I’m just “full” and “empty” at the same time.  Full of emotions and tiredness and stress and fear…empty of strength and optimism and energy.

This month has been a long haul so far.  Some bad stuff and some good.  Mostly my focus has had to been on the bad because it had to be dealt with first.  The good stuff I shall ponder and reflect upon later when the pace is not so hectic.

My sister continues to slowly recover from her surgery.  That’s good.  It’s been more challenging than she anticipated, but things are getting better.

School schedules and homework are not yet a habit, but are becoming more familiar each day.  Soon that will be easier to deal with.

I went and saw my son’s new apartment today.  We packed up some more of his stuff and took a load of boxes over there.  It’s a nice place and I am excited for this new chapter in his life.  It’s a good thing.  It’s what we raise our children to do.  Yet, I am sad that this chapter is ending.  That’s all I can say about that right now.

Oldest daughter leaves tomorrow to begin her season at the Texas Renaissance Festival.  That is a good thing also.  She loves her job and has been home for quite a while.  I know she’s anxious to rejoin her “family” there.  She misses them.  I couldn’t have made it through this month without her.  It’s time for her to go.  Yet, I’m sad.

I’m tired of crying and being sad and crying and being happy.  I’m tired of change and excited for the changes.  I want the kids to be little again and I know that its time for them to fly away.  I’m afraid of how quiet it’s going to be and wondering about the possibilities of the free time.  Mainly, I’m tired and afraid.

This turned out to be a post after all.  Short and rambling…full and empty at the same time.  There is more to be said  and somehow it says it all…at the same time.

Today is almost over and tomorrow is on its way.  Time keeps moving on by and change comes with it.  Change is neither bad nor good.  It just is.  And so is life.

The end and the beginning.

 

 

 

 

Short and Sweet

This post shall be short and the day was sweet.

For the first time in a long time we took it easy.

My sister is hanging out at our house for a bit as she recovers from surgery.  In honor of her convalescence we decided to rest with her. We woke up when we woke up.  We didn’t worry about breakfast and therefore, we didn’t have to worry about the undone dishes. Hubby brought donuts home when he came home from the nightshift.  We all ate the donuts and didn’t worry about calories or nutrition or balancing the diet.

We made a Sonic run for lunch because my sister’s appetite is returning and she wanted chili-cheese fries.  We couldn’t let her eat Sonic alone now, could we?

We grabbed a couple of Sunday papers and actually read a real newspaper.  Got black ink all over our fingers and everything!

No computer for me today.  I didn’t check email or facebook or my bank balance…  It will all still be there tomorrow and I will deal with it then.

We watched episodes of Columbo, and Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, and Rosemary and Thyme on Netflix.

We still had to go clean the offices we do on Sunday night, but even that didn’t seem as much of a chore as it sometimes does.  The work went faster and it was easier than usual.

Back home, we binged more T.V. and I even did a journal page!

As folks got tired, they wandered off to bed.  I am ready to follow.

Bring it on Monday.  I think I’m ready.

Lesson Learned

It’s been too long since I wrote something uplifting, inspiring or philosophical here.  I’m just so busy putting one foot in front of the other that I don’t have the time or energy for deep thoughts.  I’ve reached the point where I feel that if I don’t keep moving, I’ll stop completely.

The challenges just keeping on coming.  A difficult recovery from surgery for my sister.  A flooded bedroom from a leaking air conditioner that resulted in a wall and floor (yes, another one) being destroyed.  Stuff piled everywhere as we try to salvage what we can. Trying to adapt to a full school schedule.  Bills to pay. Car repairs and wrong parts and pieces that don’t fit where they are supposed to.  Planning for art classes.  And a handful of other things going on that I haven’t even shared.

One at a time wouldn’t be much of a problem, but one after another is getting old.

I’m trying not to whine.  And I’m trying to be optimistic.  I know it will all resolve itself – one way or another. I’m aware that most of it is out of my control.

In a way, this time has been a blessing.

Simplifying life can be challenging.  Sorting out the important stuff is sometimes hard to figure out.  Priorities shift and often it’s impossible to put things in proper perspective.

Until…there is literally so much that you can’t get done because there is so much to be done!

That’s when you have to pick out “one”, “two” and “three” and let the rest slide.  I’ve left things undone lately  that used to seem terribly important.  They can wait  I need sleep or I can’t cope.

Number one priority has to be family.   Quieting the endless to-do list running through my brain so that I can really hear what loved ones are trying to tell me.  Remembering to say “I love you” and be present as much as possible.  Not yelling and remembering that everyone is dealing with the stress right now – sometimes in ways that I don’t understand.  Individually. it is all too hard.  Together, we can somehow work through it.

After family, priorities shift day to day or minute to minute.  A lot isn’t getting done. There isn’t enough time to rest.  It’s one thing at a time and sometimes that one thing isn’t finished as well as I would like or at all.

This posting is a perfect example.  I’d love to write something wonderful or at least proofread it, but this will have to do instead.  These imperfect words are the best I’ve got.

I’m thankful that I have hope.  In the big scheme of things, my problems are small. They are all surmountable.  I have food in the kitchen and all that I need.  Time will solve most of my problems with a little bit of patience thrown in for good measure.

When all of this is said and done, I will have learned a bit more about simplicity and living intentionally.

I am blessed.

And I am tired.

Good night.

 

What’s Latin for Stressed?

It’s late, but I’m trying to get back in the habit of writing regularly so here’s just a quick synopsis of today.

It turns out that I may have taken my big sigh of relief a bit too soon.

Today I zipped to the hospital to pick up my sister and bring her home from the hospital.  Nope, we’ve got some complications so that didn’t happen.  What did happen was half a day of figuring out what was going on.  That didn’t happen either.  So, I left with the plan of returning this evening.

Next, a quick stop at Wal-Mart to pick up the things we need for when she is discharged and then home.

Once home, it’s time to start on the school work that is assigned for us to get done.  Well, for youngest daughter to get done…except we have been pretty casual homeschoolers with strong leanings towards unschooling so I knew we’d have some catching up to do.

I was right.

She breezed through math with few problems.

Then came Latin.  Whoa.  I was lost.  I could figure out the words somewhat because I speak some Spanish, but other than that…holy crap!  I was silently trying to figure out how to explain to her how to do it and feeling pretty desperate.  Then she calmly starts filling in the blanks with Latin conjugations, tenses, stem vowels, personal endings, and translations.  Folks, we’ve never even done most of this stuff in English, much less Latin. Who is this kid?

Then I spent thirty minutes trying to make sense of the computer program the school uses as a communication blog to make sure that everything that needed to be done got done.  I read all the syllabi (had to check the spelling on that one – it’s been a looooong time since college) and signed that I understood everything.  Right.  As if.

Lunch is packed and back pack is stuffed. Kiddo is showered and in bed.

Then it was time to go clean the office that I do on Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday nights.

I never made it back to the hospital to see my sister like I promised.

Now it’s late and I’m tired.

My husband is in the middle of inventory prep at work and working crazy overtime.

The truck inspection is overdue, but we have to fix the parking brake first.

My next door neighbor is complaining that my chickens are eating her grass.  Ummm,  It’s drought season in this part of Texas so I felt like asking “what grass?”  Last week she told me that she didn’t mind the chickens because they ate the fire ants.

Oldest daughter is watching You Tube videos to figure out how to fix the truck brakes.

She’s trying to rig the chicken coop to keep the Houdini chickens in.

Husband is frustrated that he can’t help with anything because he has to be at work.

Barret the dog is acting sick again.

Daughter has to be at school at 8:40 in the morning.

I have to go work another part time job at 8:00 in the morning. I need to be at the hospital at 9:00 in the morning. They need me to sign paperwork at the school for my teaching job by noon. All three of these locations are 45 minutes apart.

And the dogs water dish is empty again.

I think that I’m stressed.

I also think that it’s somehow going to be okay.

It could always be worse.

Youngest daughter is excited about going to school tomorrow.  The truck is running.  The part-time jobs mean more income to pay down debt.  My sister is safely in the hospital with people caring for her.  She’s letting me use her car so that all four of us aren’t trying to do all this with one car.  Oldest daughter can follow instructions (unlike me). Somebody understands the Latin homework (also not me) and I’m not responsible for any more lessons until Thursday.  I can fill the water dish.

And I’m going to bed.

Tomorrow is another day.

Good night.

 

 

And…stop.

Whew.  I feel like I just finished a race.  I crossed the finish line this afternoon and I feel like sighing the biggest sigh of relief everrrrrrr.

We got to school this morning – we we early (a full five minutes before assembly started), completely dressed, all of the proper books in the backpack, lunch bag packed (peanut free which I found out about late last night), and a hot breakfast eaten.  I spoke with all of youngest daughter’s teachers after classes and they were all surprised that we are essentially “unschoolers”.   She did that well in orientation, class discussions and syllabus presentations.  One teacher expressed disbelief that it was possible to get to the age of 12 without learning cursive, but life will go on.  The world will continue to spin and she’ll still get her papers written sans cursive.  We’ll learn it as quickly as we can, but it’s just not that high on my priority list.

Best of all, she was sad when the day ended.  She did beautifully.  She handled the classes, got along with everyone, made some friends and wants to go back!  Yea.

My Monday art class only has five kiddos in it which I will celebrate.  Last semester I had a dozen or so.  They were all great kids, but that’s a lot of art to teach with just two hands.  Five students means we will get to do much more challenging projects.  I’m so excited about that.

My sister is improving greatly following her surgery.  That’s a huge relief also.

All the stressors of the last couple of weeks have come to a resolution and I am done – both mentally and physically.

I feel like a balloon with the air whooshing out.  Not a terribly clever description, but it’s the best that I can come up with right now.  The grammar in this blog isn’t so great either, but I think that I’m managing the spelling pretty well.  I’m happy with good enough.

It’s  been challenging and I haven’t always maintained the best attitude.  There have been some short-tempered moments and more than a few episodes of self-pity and low self-esteem.

Okay, if I’m to be honest,  I’ve been in a crappy mood and seriously wondered if I was going to make it to this finish line or not.

Now what?  I don’t have to get up early tomorrow.  There isn’t a mile-long list of things to do and organize.  No more stuff we have to buy and figure out how to pay for.  No big uncertainties to face.

Just normal life to deal with. After dealing with all of the stuff that’s been happening lately, my old challenges seem easy in comparison.

And now, to bed.  I shall sleep soundly as befitting someone that has life totally under control.

Yea, we know that’s not the case, but just for tonight we shall pretend that it is so.

Life is good.

Focus

It’s been long week.

Youngest daughter is ready for school on Monday.  Uniforms are bought, books are all here, the lunch bag is ready to be packed, and the lunch food is all bought.  We have met the teachers and seen the classroom.  She is more excited than scared now.

Son has started packing for his move.  There are boxes sitting around as he makes grown-up decisions about what to take and what to get rid of.  He is endlessly figuring out finances and making lists of what he might need.

I have a plan for what I am teaching on Monday and have purchased the supplies.  All is not ready, but it can be in a short amount of time.

The house is livable.  That’s really all I can say about that subject.  Unless we are really close friends, please don’t choose right now as a time to drop by for a chat.  I won’t open the door because the first statement in this paragraph is a lie.

Barret the dog is fed for this moment.  By the time I finish this paragraph I have no doubt that he will be heading for the food dish again.  Anybody have any dog food coupons?

The neighbor who has time to drive around our neighborhood and make lists of what is wrong with everyone’s property and then post it anonymously has not yet targeted my house.  I’m sure it’s coming.

There’s just one other thing going on that I haven’t shared because it’s not really my story.  I can say that my sister had two days of major surgery on Monday and Wednesday of this week.  She’ll be coming home tomorrow or Monday.  I am her caretaker.  I don’t mind. We don’t use the “love” word, but she means a lot to me.  This surgery has been hard.

As I was leaving the hospital today, I realized that I was done…drained and empty.  I thought about finding the chapel and resting for a while, but I don’t really have the time to lose it right now.  Everything is holding together rather nicely I think (picture something repaired with duct tape or maybe picture my old washer with it’s stick and ball leveling plan).  I’m okay.  Not great, but okay.

On my way out of the hospital, I saw this through the window….this dove perching on a courtyard fence outside a hospital window.0806161109a

I have an affinity for birds.  More than once a dove, in particular, has made an appearance in my life at a serendipitous moment.  This was that moment.  This day.  I stopped in the hallway and said “Oh”.  Out loud.

With all the craziness around me during the last couple of weeks,  I had lost focus.

Focus on what is important and what is not.

Focus on what I could control and what was out of my hands.

Focus on what needed to be done and what could wait.

But mainly, I had lost focus of who I am.

Dealing with new situations, people and environments, I lost my footing.  I got caught up in looking outside of myself for structure, approval, and truth.  For a person with anxiety issues, this is dangerous ground.

It results in a feeling of inferiority as I focus on what is wrong with me (in comparison to others) rather than what is unique.

It is isolating as I feel worse and worse about myself and tend to retreat from interaction with others.

It is demeaning.  It reduces my view of myself and others to a a set of superficial characteristics that have little to do with who we are as human beings.

The dove had no such issues.  Just outside the hospitial, in the midst of suffering and healing, death and life, sorrow and joy…a virtual microcosm of humanity…this dove was building a nest.  She found a slender piece of grass, she rested for a while on the top of the fence, she flew to her nest and carefully wove the grass into place.  She knew who she was and what she was supposed to be doing.  And she did it.

I know that, as human beings, our lives can never be that simple.  But, we can learn from her.  In the midst of our daily lives, we can never forget who we are and what our job is.

  • I am first and foremost a child of God.  If this is not a belief that you can identify with, please don’t stop reading.  You are here because you can identify with something that I am writing.  Please stay because…
  • I strive to be tolerant of others and what they believe.  This world is a mighty big place and would be a lot less interesting without diversity.  Sometimes I fail at being tolerant.  I keep trying and learning.
  • I am creative.  I make some cool stuff sometimes.  I believe that teaching creativity (and having art sometimes happen as a result) is one of the most important things that we can share with children and adults who are willing to be child-like when necessary.
  • I am stubborn.  Sometimes this is even a good thing.  I don’t quit easily and when I do, it doesn’t last long.  I get back up and keep going.
  • I am learning not to be afraid to fail.  A mentor once told me that she accomplished so much because in her words…”I’m not afraid to suck.”  These are words that I try to live by.
  • I am funny.  Well, mostly sarcastic, but they’re kinda the same thing so we’ll stick with funny because it sounds nicer.
  • I’m intelligent.  I don’t know everything, but am good at sounding like I know a lot. When confronted with something that I don’t understand, I try to learn. I believe that intelligence and education do not always go hand in hand.  Some of the smartest people I know never finished high school.
  • I believe in the choices that we have made as a family.  We live on one income.  We don’t live in a fancy, expensive house.  We drive a old truck that is paid for.  We are working to get out of debt.  Sometimes we do without or make do as a result
  • I’m always scared and insecure and I get up in the morning anyway.  Most days, I even leave the house and venture out into a really scary world and pretend like I know what I am doing.  Sometimes, I even start to believe in myself.

My hope and prayer for you all today..

Believe in yourself today.

Remember who you are.

Don’t get lost in the world.

Focus…

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Final Tale

 

But first an update on story #1…the narrative of youngest daughter starting school.  Let me share (if you are a veteran reader you already know this) that I am 100% a liberal arts person.  I understand the basics of the birds and the bees and I can tell a conifer from a deciduous tree.  I know what happens when you mix baking soda and vinegar.  That’s about it for biology and chemistry.  As far as math goes, let’s just say that I consider it a win if my checkbook balances and I do that everyday so it’s not too many numbers.

Since I have a definitive bias towards art, literature and writing, it is possible that I may have let the math lessons slide a bit.  Youngest daughter also has struggled with the retention of even the most basic of math facts.  Loads of tears, worksheets, computer programs and textbooks later, we finally happened upon something that worked two months ago.

At the beginning of the summer we were still working on addition and subtraction.  It just didn’t make sense to her.We found a computer program that she really enjoyed and with the looming deadline of placement testing for her new school, she had quite a challenge before her.

Keep in mind that she is entering the sixth grade and had to place in fifth grade or better to take math on campus.  At the beginning of the summer she was at a second grade math level.

She tested on Monday and place firmly at the fourth grade level…almost to fifth. They are allowing her to register for the sixth grade math class based on the fact that she accomplished so much over the summer.  I suspect that she is actually really great at math and just needs a teacher who can guide her (someone who can actually do math and isn’t studying ahead trying to remember how to do long division)!

What these words leave out is how truly hard this all was.  Copious tears and meltdowns for both of us.  Me feeling like I had failed her.  She feeling dumb.  Apologies and hugs. Giving up and starting over.  Endless lists of what we needed to get done (me).  Endless doodling on the page meant for figuring out answers (her).

It is done.  She is entering school on the same level as everyone else in her class.  We saw her desk yesterday with her binder laid out and waiting for her.

That made it so real.  And hard.  And happy.  And proud.  And anxious.  And….

on to story #3…

Binky Goes on an Adventure

I love all my kiddos.  I even like them a lot of the time. Honestly there have been times (in all of our lives) when I would have traded them for a fountain diet coke with crushed ice, but I’ve given that addiction up, so it’s a moot point.  I stuck it out…they didn’t run away from home (well, one of the did, but she came home).

When my two girls left home, I thought I would die.  They both left at the same time and dropping them off at college (the same one my husband and I went to) was impossibly hard.  I survived.  They survived and thrived.

But this is my baby boy, Binky.  This unfortunate nickname is no longer in use, but grew out his extended attachment to his pacifier.

He’s been quietly making plans for his future for quite a while.  He’s never been much on sharing the important stuff.  He’ll coast along for a while and then make a big announcement about what he’s about to do and surprise us all.  I knew he’s been trying to figure out this apartment thing.

I just preferred not to think about it.

It’s time for him to move out.  It’s a good plan.  The apartment is further in towards Austin.  Not too far away for him to bring his laundry home and raid the pantry.

I want him to go and build his life.  He’s an adult. My job is done.

But…he’s also still Binky with all the moments and memories that name symbolizes.

What will my life be like with him not in it all the time.

Sleeping soundly through all the malfunctioning smoke alarms going off for 30 minutes while I try to shut them off.

Endlessly sharing sports names and stats while I struggle to appear interested.

Never straightening out his nasty socks so they can be properly washed.

Continually butting heads with his Dad.

Insisting that the vegetables in a Hot Pocket are enough for a healthy diet.

Living in a room that any decent health inspector would condemn.

Planting daffodil bulbs and sunflowers…well, mainly eating dirt, but we tried.

Always knowing when I need a hug…even when I don’t.

This growing up thing is hard.  For Mom’s and kids.

I’m going to go cry for a while.

It will be okay.

In time.

And, of course, I have Barret the dog to keep me company.  Thank you, Jacob.  I really mean it.

The Riveting Tale of Barret the Dog

For those of you who have been anxiously awaiting the promised tale of the glitter eating dog, the moment has come!

The story begins with a mention of my son who has yearned for a Bernese mountain dog. This is unlikely to happen as they are fabulously expensive.

As luck would have it though, several weeks ago while just happening to drive by a Petsmart on dog adoption day, the next best thing happened.  Or maybe, the next, next best thing.

There, right before his eyes, was the almost dog of his dreams.  It was a mixed breed (mutt), but part of the mix was obviously a Greater Swiss Mountain dog.  I must add that this was mainly obvious to my son.  A “Swissie” for short is closely related to the Bernese Mountain dog and shares many of the same characteristics.

My son still lives at home and he dutifully asked permission to adopt the dog (along with all the earnest declarations pertaining to all future care and feeding of said dog).

And so Barret came home with us.

Upon reading Barret’s history, we found out that he was two years old and had been surrendered to the shelter 3 times.  The first owner became homeless, the second lost their house and had to move into an apartment, and the third returned him because of his aggression toward their cats.

Now is when the story gets interesting.

Within two days of bringing Barret home, he started to get aggressive…towards our dogs and us.  He was unpredictable and moody.  On day three he became lethargic and then started running a fever.  A trip to the vet was in order.

He was diagnosed with a serious ear infection.  He tried to bite the vet and everyone else in the office and had to be muzzled.  He howled when the medicine was put in his ear.

Twenty-four hours later, his fever spiked and he was obviously worse. Back to the vet for an overnight stay for evaluation and I.V. fluids.  He was extremely aggressive and hostile towards everyone.  He had to be sedated to be examined and treated.

I read through all of his paperwork again and found a teeny-tiny reference to a swollen spot on his face that the shelter treated with Benadryl, of all things.  We conferred with the vet who diagnosed Barret with meningitis, probably related to the untreated injury to his face.  Barret was very ill and it wasn’t clear if he would survive.  Since we didn’t have a clear understanding of his previous disposition, we didn’t know if he was a naturally aggressive dog or not.

At this point we were all emotionally invested in Barret, so we gave the vet the go-ahead to treat him.  Several days later, we brought him home provisionally.

As it turns out, he is the sweetest dog ever.  He has an incredible urge to protect everyone in the house, so beware anyone who come to the door, but with a little training we can work through that.

He is a gigantic dork and has a few quirky traits which or may not be related to the 105 degree fever.  We were warned that there could be brain damage.  That could explain why he eats glitter (among other things).

After feeding him humongous amounts of food and stopping him from chewing on anything in the house including furniture and toes, we have determined that he is most definitely not two years old.  Barret is a puppy and not fully grown.   Did I mention how much this dog eats?  He eats a lot.  All the time.  We have no idea how big he is going to get.

Oh yea, here’s the best part (sarcasm).  Shortly after bringing Barret home (along with a pretty hefty vet bill), our son got invited to move into an apartment with some friends.  He has been trying to save up money and work out the logistics of moving out on his own.  We live in an expensive area so moving out of the house is a complicated thing.  It’s all good. We are very happy and excited for him.  He’s moving in with some good guys and they found an affordable apartment.

Just one little catch…

Have you figured it out yet?

He can’t take the dog with him.  0803162117c

So now, I am the proud owner of a gangly, dorky puppy who follows me everywhere, wakes me up in the middle of the night to make sure that I’m okay, and is eating us out of house and home.

But that’s okay because he makes me laugh (sometimes).

 

 

 

 

I Should be Asleep…

but I’m not (obviously).

I haven’t felt much like writing out loud…as in on this blog where people can read about me and my life.

I’ve been writing in my head a lot.  Trying to make sense of the events that have happened and are about to happen.

Nothing tragic or serious.  Nobody has died or been diagnosed with a terrible illness.  Just normal life events, but they seem to be happening too frequently for me to handle them.

I feel weak and unstable and lost.  I’m crying a lot.  About nothing.  And everything.

I’m crying now.  Writing things down (out loud) makes them real.  And hard.  And life-changing.

I’ve thought a lot about how to share the stories that have unfolded during the time I haven’t been writing.  There are 3 distinct narratives and I shall share them in the upcoming days and together we shall make sense of this crazy unpredictable thing we call life.

Story #1:

The Youngest Child

Tomorrow, my youngest daughter, will go to take a placement test prior to starting school on the 8th of August.  No big deal, right?  She’s 12 and will be entering the 6th grade at a private school – the same school that I taught art at last year.

Except it is a big deal.  I’ve been homeschooling for over twenty years. Her older sisters were home-schooled almost their entire lives except for Pre-K and 1st grade respectively.  Her older brother never attended school.

Life changes though.  She’s the last one at home and is lonely.  The home-school group we belong to is mostly younger kids.  We live out in the middle of nowhere and friends are few and far between.

It’s the right thing to do.  She’s going to love it.  Her uniforms and books are bought. School supplies are ready.  She’ll attend school on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday for classroom lessons.  We’ll still home-school some on Tuesday and Thursday.  The best of both worlds.  We’ll still spend time together and she’ll make new friends.  I’ll have a little time to myself…

for the first time in 20 years.  A lot of who I understand myself to be is wrapped up in home-schooling.  I think that it’s true that in committing to raising children we lose a little bit of who we are.

Part of me feels like I’m quitting or giving up…like I’m failing for giving up home-schooling.  I know in my head that this is untrue.  I’ve always tried  to do what’s best for my kids.  Now, attending school is what’s best for this child.

It’s change.  I’m not always comfortable with change…okay, I’m never comfortable with change.  I’m trying to celebrate not having to write lesson plans or set up a classroom.  I’m thinking about things I might do in my free days.  Who knows, I could even clean house!

See what I mean?  It’s not really a big deal, right?  Except it is – to me.  And there is still story #2 and #3.

Stay tuned..I gotta go and stop the new dog from eating more glitter.  That’s a spoiler for story #2.   Not that the dog is eating glitter, but that there is a dog to eat glitter because Matilda, the basset dog and Abbey, the bagel dog may steal food left and right, but they would never eat glitter.

Until tomorrow…

Peace.