Today marks my sixth day on the Grace & Strength Diet but the fourth day on the VLCD. This weekend was easy. So easy that I thought, "I got this" and then yesterday came and with a migraine from you know where. I came home, bound and determined to quit. I was sick. I was hurting. I was miserable. I ransacked my husband's dresser for Easter candy I bought the other night and managed to find a bag with 3 Doritos. What it was doing there is another fight for another day. But I ate them. I gleefully ate them savoring every single cheezy crumb. I licked my fingers. Then I got into a fight with my great friend in a far away land (North Dakota but that's far far away from me). She told me I needed a therapist and I told her in not so many words to Eff off. Then I ate one of those Cuties oranges. If you've never seen them before, the commercials are liars. They are T to the iny. Seriously. it took longer to peel than to eat. But damn, it was GOOD!
Then I went to sleep. My migraine was so massive that I seriously questioned if I needed medical treatment. With the help of pharmacuticals, I slept from 5pm until 7:30am. I woke up with a minimal headache that for the most part was gone. What do I have today? Other than an intense desire to cheat? I AM MEANS AS A SNAKE. I mean something fell when I got home and I screamed. I mean like a crazy person. Ever said you were so angry you could scream? I did it. And while it helped me in the minute, it's crazy that food has done this to me.
I want to lose weight. I was to be successful for the first time in my life and yesterday, I had a revelation that lasted about an hour. I work for a local church organziation doing social work on a part time basis. We give out food orders to those who don't have enough food. We get a lot of the food we give out from a local grocery story who gives us meats, produce, breads, and cakes. Baked goods of all kinds. And I look at them all the day long. I give them out to people. They sit in the big fridges for me to give out. They sit outside my office on a table in the thrift store for people to take. I literally can't excape them.
Yesterday, when I thought I would succum to cupcake piled high with buttercream icing, I prayed. "God, I need help". Then it became clear to me: this food is killing you. That delicious cupcake (and you know it's delicious) is WHY you are having to go through this today. If you had the ability to edit yourself and not eat a cupcake every time you saw one you would not be a Type II Diabetic. You would not be paying $200 a month for suppliments and coaching to lose weight. If you could pass up those damn cupcakes you would not be 317 pounds.
Yes, I said it. I put my weight out there for all of Cyberland to see. I don't care anymore. It's not like if you look at me and my drivers license and are fooled by the 250 pounds listed as weight. Today I was only 313.2. Since I started I've lost 6.8 pounds that's since Saturday. I wore a shirt today that I bought a couple of weeks ago that was too tight and today, while not lose, I was willing to wear it to work (as in out of the house). I can tell when I look down I don't see my belly sticking out as much. I know my life is being extended each day I stay on this diet. The highest my sugar has been (without medication) is 136 and the lowest was 94. But today I'm mean.
I'm so mean I am actually embarrassed. How did I get so addicted to food? I counseled drug addicts for almost two years and have worked with substance dependent people for almost 12 years. I always knew the struggles people with addictions face when they choose to kick them, or want to but can't find the ability. But now I know first hand how hard it is. When you use a substance to comfort a pain (physical, mental, emotional) and you can't use that anymore, feeling that pain is to intently worse than before. I don't know how else to put it.
I have PCOS and I gained weight due to the metabolic changes that characterizes the disorder. When my PCOS started kicking in I was being sexually harrassed at school. It was heinous. I won't go into it here but I thought, "well, if I just got bigger no one would notice me." Wrong. The more weight I gained the harrassment changed to "wonder what it's like to f*ck a fat chick." I couldn't win. The only solace I found: food. I ate to comfort myself and when I couldn't eat I slept. Sleeping because my avoidance technique. Whever I had a feeling, anxiety, concern I could eat away I slept rather that to face it.
As I got married and attempts at pregnancy failed and then our miscarriage I ate to escape the pain. As my joint point and Fibromyalgia pain increased I ate to escape the pain. When I couldn't control the things that were happening in my life I ate. I was able to control the food I had in my mouth and by control I mean eat as much as possible. After I was diagnosed with RA I ate. I ate to suppress the "what will I be like when I'm 60?" concerns. I ate at the fact that my treatments weren't working. I had a stressful job so I ate to calm my nerves through stressful days.
I don't want to be this way. I don't want to threaten to quit every single day. I don't want to imagine my life without an occassional meal at Hibachi or Muriales. I'm tired of my life being dictated by food. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being weak. I'm tired of being fat.
I'm also angry at myself for sleeping away my Monday evening. Granted had my head not hurt so badly I wouldn't have slept but the sleeping was also serving a second purposed: avoidance. I wasn't able to control myself so I slept so that I could avoid the pain of wanting to quit, the anger of wanting to eat and the cravings I was having. I slept through my coaching session. Today I wanted to sleep the entire day. This will get better with time. I will get better with time. But right now, until I no longer need to, I'm going to vent. I'm going to be angry. Maybe feeling the anger and pain is what I need. There's not security blanket of girl scout cookies anymore (speaking of which the box I ordered from my boss' daughter came today. I gave her $3.50 and told her to give the box to someone else). So, today I screamed. What will tomorrow bring?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Good Deeds and Grace and Strength
This past Friday my husband and I had date night. It was a different kind of date night in that I have recently started the Grace & Strength Lifestyle. Friday was my last "loading day" and I needed to eat, eat, eat! So we went for our usual Friday night dinner of Hibachi and to see the new Tyler Perry Movie, "Good Deeds."
My husband and I adore Tyler Perry movies (Yes, ladies, I was lucky enough to marry a man who enjoys a chick flick or two ) and have been dying to see this movie. You can see the trailer HERE We had known from watching the trailer several times poverty would be a central focus of the film. It opened my heart and brought tears to my eyes watching a single mother who lost her husband in Iraq struggle to keep a roof over her daughter's head and food in her belly. But then the hardest part of the movie came: when social services came to remove the daughter because they were homeless and hungry.
I felt my heart being ripped out of my body. That's how our children will come to us. Our family will increase because another family was forced to decrease. Therein lies the beautiful pain we will experience becoming parents. We are preparing to welcome broken children in our home. We are prepared to complete our family with children who feel empty when they arrive. I cannot grasp the concept.
Becoming a mother is one of the most beautiful times in a woman's life but how can I be so happy when I know the great cost that has been suffered by my children so that they were able to become mine? How can I be excited (even though I am) to have children in my home when I know they have faced a world of hurt unlike anything I can imagine?
How can something so beautiful be so painful? How can something so painful become so beautiful? It's amazing how much just a single two minute scene in a movie can spark a thought process and cause you to think of every avenue other than what you initially expected.
There will be foster children that come into this house who will only stay with us for awhile. We will love them, help them, care for them, support them and send them home. But eventually there will be children who come into our family and will stay forever. As hard as I try and as much as I can imagine I still will not be able to come close to identifying the pain these children will have experienced.
It's a very humbling experience.
My husband and I adore Tyler Perry movies (Yes, ladies, I was lucky enough to marry a man who enjoys a chick flick or two ) and have been dying to see this movie. You can see the trailer HERE We had known from watching the trailer several times poverty would be a central focus of the film. It opened my heart and brought tears to my eyes watching a single mother who lost her husband in Iraq struggle to keep a roof over her daughter's head and food in her belly. But then the hardest part of the movie came: when social services came to remove the daughter because they were homeless and hungry.
I felt my heart being ripped out of my body. That's how our children will come to us. Our family will increase because another family was forced to decrease. Therein lies the beautiful pain we will experience becoming parents. We are preparing to welcome broken children in our home. We are prepared to complete our family with children who feel empty when they arrive. I cannot grasp the concept.
Becoming a mother is one of the most beautiful times in a woman's life but how can I be so happy when I know the great cost that has been suffered by my children so that they were able to become mine? How can I be excited (even though I am) to have children in my home when I know they have faced a world of hurt unlike anything I can imagine?
How can something so beautiful be so painful? How can something so painful become so beautiful? It's amazing how much just a single two minute scene in a movie can spark a thought process and cause you to think of every avenue other than what you initially expected.
There will be foster children that come into this house who will only stay with us for awhile. We will love them, help them, care for them, support them and send them home. But eventually there will be children who come into our family and will stay forever. As hard as I try and as much as I can imagine I still will not be able to come close to identifying the pain these children will have experienced.
It's a very humbling experience.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Week 1 Over...
Last night was our first class. It was very informal, just us and the social worker. We watched a video on bloodborne pathogens, the first Pride video and a video that the State of WV shows birth parents who have lost custody of their children to the Foster Care system. It was very informative.
I had a lot more questions than my husband. I have the clinical/psychological questions since I've done this kind of work before. After the class we went to dinner and talked. Talked a lot. It was one of the first dinners we've had where we weren't preoccupied with our phones, Twitter, or some other social network.
We have a lot of concerns and questions that will be answered in time. I have so much more to write about but I've had a long day and I still need some time to process the class, honestly.
I hope everyone (all 2 of you who are Followers) like my new blog design! I love it!!!
I had a lot more questions than my husband. I have the clinical/psychological questions since I've done this kind of work before. After the class we went to dinner and talked. Talked a lot. It was one of the first dinners we've had where we weren't preoccupied with our phones, Twitter, or some other social network.
We have a lot of concerns and questions that will be answered in time. I have so much more to write about but I've had a long day and I still need some time to process the class, honestly.
I hope everyone (all 2 of you who are Followers) like my new blog design! I love it!!!
Monday, February 20, 2012
Wild and Weird West Virginia Weekend
What a wild, wild weekend we experienced here at the Tomahawk Residence. I live in Wild and Wonderful West Virgina but this week it was Wild and Weird West Virginia.
First, I want to explain how I chose the name of this blog. The "Twist" part is because we're entering into a new phase of our lives, (becoming adoptive parents through foster care) so we know our lives are going to be filled with LOTS of twists and turns.
While adopting, I'll be working an even bigger and more important project: weight loss. Turnstiles is both a play on the phrase "twists and turns" as well as a reminder of my arch nemeses: a turnstile. I'm fat. I'm not chunky. I'm not "pleasantly plump". I'm not "plus sized" or any of those other "lets not try to hurt their feelings so we'll give them a cutesy name" person either. I'm F to the A to the damn T. I'm short (5') and carry the bulk of my weight in my belly area so it makes getting through a turnstile IMPOSSIBLE. In fact whenever we go to a concert/sporting event or something along those lines I am petrified I'll be faced with and STUCK in a turnstile. I even (and as an infertile this is painful) used the excuse "I'm pregnant is there an alternative entrance" to avoid getting stuck as I *almost* did when my husband and I were at Heintz Field ta a Steeler game. I seriously thought I was stuck forever. It was mortifying. So "turnstiles" reminds me of that fear, embarrassment, and limitation my weight has caused.
Finally the "Tomahawk" is from the fact that our last name is Tomasek but since no one can say it (Ta-MASS-ick) Jeff's best friend called him "Tomahawk" and since the nickname stuck, I've now become Mrs. Tomahawk.
Okay...now on to the Wild and Weird Weekend.
Background info: I have Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) and it's severe enough I'm on a medication called Remicade that is administered through an IV infusion at the local oncology center. I get an infusion every eight weeks and the week prior to the infusion I must get blood drawn to make sure I'm not sick, to determine the level of inflammation in my body, and how much medication I need and if it's being too difficult on my liver.
Last week I got my blood drawn (I'm a super hard stick so it took her more than once to get the blood) and by Friday I had a small pink spot on my arm that was very tender and warm to the touch. I went to urgent care and was told I had a superficial vascular blood clot. I was sent home with instructions to take 600mg Motrin three times a day for five days and apply warm heat three times a day. By Saturday morning the pinkness had spread and the pain was worse.
I didn't get that much more concerned because we had a neighborhood emergency. My husband came up and got me in the morning to show me the firetruck, two ambulances, and three police cars in front of my house. They were not hustling like it was a medical emergency and with there being so many police vehicles, my mom and I assumed the worst: death.
Now, this family, a woman late thirties or mid-forties and her two children (a young girl under 6 and a teen boy under 15) had JUST moved into the home a week to the day. Family started arriving by the car loads and I had only seen the little girl but not the mother and son. This left my mom and I to assume: murder/suicide.
After what seemed like forever, two family members took the little girl and then the paramedics rolled a body out. It was all covered by a sheet so I had no idea if it was the mom or the son. As the one ambulance pulled away I began I figured the next one would be for the second body. Only there wasn't a second body. An hour later the police brought the son home. The mother had died. What was weird is that there was no shock, sadness, or crying from the family members who had arrived. The little girl didn't appear to be crying or upset. She was bopping in and out the door before leaving. We still have no idea who called the police or how the woman died but it was so sad to see two motherless children.
My arm continued to get worse even yesterday it was worse: pinker, more swollen, more painful, etc. So today, after not sleeping well all night and feeling short of breath and tired and not feeling well I called off work just to get rest and feel better. That was until my doctor's office called asking a question and I mentioned what was going on with my arm.
Well, my Rheumatologist was very concerned about pulmonary embolism so sent me to the hospital for a vascular ultrasound. A major blood clot was ruled out and the nurse in the cardiac rehab office felt it was cellulitis and that I needed an antibiotic so she called my doctor. My Rheumy didn't want to prescribe it so they passed the information on to my regular doctor. The nursing staff at both doctor's offices don't care for each other so all day today I've been in the middle of feuding doctor's offices.
Now, I've had no sleep, I've been worried about what was wrong, and not feeling well so it didn't go over really well with me when my GP's office called and the nurse yelled at me for involving "the wrong doctor." I'm still quite upset how I was caught in the middle of an unprofessional hate fest between two doctor offices. I had to keep telling the GP nurse I hadn't called the other doctor they called ME and since I was to take an infusion this week I needed to make sure I could still have it. It was when my RA doctor's nurse spoke with my RA doc that it became a big issue of ruling out a potentially dangerous situation. I'm glad to have had the u/s so we know that it's nothing serious but I still have to go see my GP tomorrow to get an antibiotic and to definately talk to her about her nurse's behavior. It was appauling.
So, that's my Wild and Weird West Virginia Weekend. I'm honestly dreading seeing my doc tomorrow to confront her with the way her nurse treated me. I'm sure I overreacted a touch since I'm exhausted and worried and not feeling well but I still don't need to be caught in the crossfire of two offices that don't get along.
Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to to get some sleep.
First, I want to explain how I chose the name of this blog. The "Twist" part is because we're entering into a new phase of our lives, (becoming adoptive parents through foster care) so we know our lives are going to be filled with LOTS of twists and turns.
While adopting, I'll be working an even bigger and more important project: weight loss. Turnstiles is both a play on the phrase "twists and turns" as well as a reminder of my arch nemeses: a turnstile. I'm fat. I'm not chunky. I'm not "pleasantly plump". I'm not "plus sized" or any of those other "lets not try to hurt their feelings so we'll give them a cutesy name" person either. I'm F to the A to the damn T. I'm short (5') and carry the bulk of my weight in my belly area so it makes getting through a turnstile IMPOSSIBLE. In fact whenever we go to a concert/sporting event or something along those lines I am petrified I'll be faced with and STUCK in a turnstile. I even (and as an infertile this is painful) used the excuse "I'm pregnant is there an alternative entrance" to avoid getting stuck as I *almost* did when my husband and I were at Heintz Field ta a Steeler game. I seriously thought I was stuck forever. It was mortifying. So "turnstiles" reminds me of that fear, embarrassment, and limitation my weight has caused.
Finally the "Tomahawk" is from the fact that our last name is Tomasek but since no one can say it (Ta-MASS-ick) Jeff's best friend called him "Tomahawk" and since the nickname stuck, I've now become Mrs. Tomahawk.
Okay...now on to the Wild and Weird Weekend.
Background info: I have Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA) and it's severe enough I'm on a medication called Remicade that is administered through an IV infusion at the local oncology center. I get an infusion every eight weeks and the week prior to the infusion I must get blood drawn to make sure I'm not sick, to determine the level of inflammation in my body, and how much medication I need and if it's being too difficult on my liver.
Last week I got my blood drawn (I'm a super hard stick so it took her more than once to get the blood) and by Friday I had a small pink spot on my arm that was very tender and warm to the touch. I went to urgent care and was told I had a superficial vascular blood clot. I was sent home with instructions to take 600mg Motrin three times a day for five days and apply warm heat three times a day. By Saturday morning the pinkness had spread and the pain was worse.
I didn't get that much more concerned because we had a neighborhood emergency. My husband came up and got me in the morning to show me the firetruck, two ambulances, and three police cars in front of my house. They were not hustling like it was a medical emergency and with there being so many police vehicles, my mom and I assumed the worst: death.
Now, this family, a woman late thirties or mid-forties and her two children (a young girl under 6 and a teen boy under 15) had JUST moved into the home a week to the day. Family started arriving by the car loads and I had only seen the little girl but not the mother and son. This left my mom and I to assume: murder/suicide.
After what seemed like forever, two family members took the little girl and then the paramedics rolled a body out. It was all covered by a sheet so I had no idea if it was the mom or the son. As the one ambulance pulled away I began I figured the next one would be for the second body. Only there wasn't a second body. An hour later the police brought the son home. The mother had died. What was weird is that there was no shock, sadness, or crying from the family members who had arrived. The little girl didn't appear to be crying or upset. She was bopping in and out the door before leaving. We still have no idea who called the police or how the woman died but it was so sad to see two motherless children.
My arm continued to get worse even yesterday it was worse: pinker, more swollen, more painful, etc. So today, after not sleeping well all night and feeling short of breath and tired and not feeling well I called off work just to get rest and feel better. That was until my doctor's office called asking a question and I mentioned what was going on with my arm.
Well, my Rheumatologist was very concerned about pulmonary embolism so sent me to the hospital for a vascular ultrasound. A major blood clot was ruled out and the nurse in the cardiac rehab office felt it was cellulitis and that I needed an antibiotic so she called my doctor. My Rheumy didn't want to prescribe it so they passed the information on to my regular doctor. The nursing staff at both doctor's offices don't care for each other so all day today I've been in the middle of feuding doctor's offices.
Now, I've had no sleep, I've been worried about what was wrong, and not feeling well so it didn't go over really well with me when my GP's office called and the nurse yelled at me for involving "the wrong doctor." I'm still quite upset how I was caught in the middle of an unprofessional hate fest between two doctor offices. I had to keep telling the GP nurse I hadn't called the other doctor they called ME and since I was to take an infusion this week I needed to make sure I could still have it. It was when my RA doctor's nurse spoke with my RA doc that it became a big issue of ruling out a potentially dangerous situation. I'm glad to have had the u/s so we know that it's nothing serious but I still have to go see my GP tomorrow to get an antibiotic and to definately talk to her about her nurse's behavior. It was appauling.
So, that's my Wild and Weird West Virginia Weekend. I'm honestly dreading seeing my doc tomorrow to confront her with the way her nurse treated me. I'm sure I overreacted a touch since I'm exhausted and worried and not feeling well but I still don't need to be caught in the crossfire of two offices that don't get along.
Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to to get some sleep.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
And We're Off....
Housekeeping Items:
Aly at Bridge Work Blogs emailed me today and is working on the header to my blog design. I can't wait to see it and unveil it here!
Now..what you all have been waiting for:
Last night (Valentine's Day) was our first home visit for our foster parenting home study. It lasted roughly two hours and after my nerves settled, it was fun and very easy. I also realized I should have listened to all of you who via Facebook told me not to stress it's now about perfection.
We got a lot of paperwork to complete, read, and sign. We had our fingerprints taken and will receive a phone call from them when we have to go to the state police to get our other set of prints taken (one set are the old fashioned finger/ink/card and the other are digital.)
He said with the size of our home, we'd be approved for up to four children. I about died. I know I can't handle four children. Going from no children to one child is going to be quite an adjustment. We think we'll start with one but two at the most but never more than three.
We got a lot of our questions answered and a lot of our concerns addressed. I had printed out the posting (I hate using that word because it sounds like I'm trying to get a kid from Craigslist or something) of Robert and showed him who we were talking about and expressed our great interest in him. He gave us permission to go ahead and click the "Express Interest in this Child" button on the state's website and the person at the state will contact him and he will express our interest and where we are in the process. It won't secure him to us, but it puts our desires out into the universe for positive energy and prayers to be answered.
We start our first class next Tuesday and pending everything coming out okay he firmly believes we can be open to accepting children (hopefully Robert) by mid May. I will want to wait until the school year has finished as to not disrupt a child's final weeks of school.
We stated in some of the paperwork Jeff and I completed tonight it asked us the minimum and maximum age we'd accept. We indicated we'll take ages 6-18. We also went thought the child inventory of things we are willing to accept as far as medical/physical/emotional/intellectual deficits in a child. That was a very hard form for me. I felt bad when I would mark we were unwilling to consider certain behaviors but we had to tell ourselves that if we know right now we are unable to handle then it saves us and the child from a potentially bad placement.
There is a lot more to share with you but right now I'm really tired. I think the emotions of the past several days as really caught up with me and I'm ready to crash. So, off to watch Survivor and surf the net for a bunk bed and dresser!
Aly at Bridge Work Blogs emailed me today and is working on the header to my blog design. I can't wait to see it and unveil it here!
Now..what you all have been waiting for:
Last night (Valentine's Day) was our first home visit for our foster parenting home study. It lasted roughly two hours and after my nerves settled, it was fun and very easy. I also realized I should have listened to all of you who via Facebook told me not to stress it's now about perfection.
We got a lot of paperwork to complete, read, and sign. We had our fingerprints taken and will receive a phone call from them when we have to go to the state police to get our other set of prints taken (one set are the old fashioned finger/ink/card and the other are digital.)
He said with the size of our home, we'd be approved for up to four children. I about died. I know I can't handle four children. Going from no children to one child is going to be quite an adjustment. We think we'll start with one but two at the most but never more than three.
We got a lot of our questions answered and a lot of our concerns addressed. I had printed out the posting (I hate using that word because it sounds like I'm trying to get a kid from Craigslist or something) of Robert and showed him who we were talking about and expressed our great interest in him. He gave us permission to go ahead and click the "Express Interest in this Child" button on the state's website and the person at the state will contact him and he will express our interest and where we are in the process. It won't secure him to us, but it puts our desires out into the universe for positive energy and prayers to be answered.
We start our first class next Tuesday and pending everything coming out okay he firmly believes we can be open to accepting children (hopefully Robert) by mid May. I will want to wait until the school year has finished as to not disrupt a child's final weeks of school.
We stated in some of the paperwork Jeff and I completed tonight it asked us the minimum and maximum age we'd accept. We indicated we'll take ages 6-18. We also went thought the child inventory of things we are willing to accept as far as medical/physical/emotional/intellectual deficits in a child. That was a very hard form for me. I felt bad when I would mark we were unwilling to consider certain behaviors but we had to tell ourselves that if we know right now we are unable to handle then it saves us and the child from a potentially bad placement.
There is a lot more to share with you but right now I'm really tired. I think the emotions of the past several days as really caught up with me and I'm ready to crash. So, off to watch Survivor and surf the net for a bunk bed and dresser!
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Le'ts Goooooooooooo Foster to Adopt!
Life around here is about to change in a big way and we've worked our hineies off all weekend working towards that change. We will be meeting with a social worker on Tuesday afternoon. He will be coming to our home (this is when I wish I was OCD rather than what I am) and getting us started in the process of becoming foster parents. There is a 13 year old boy available for adoption that we have our heart set on. I'm trying not to get my hopes up but I already have his room set up just for him.
We are exhausted. We have cleaned, moved furniture, decluttered, and cleaned some more. In fact I still have clutter to put away but I'm simply exhausted. I know when he gets here Tuesday he won't be expecting to see a spotless house. He just wants to see that we have a safe place for children.
Here's what we have for his room at this point. I'm still waiting on the matching valances and bed skirt.
We still have to: remove the entertainment cabinet next to the computer desk, get a bed frame to put the mattress/box springs on, put shades on the lamps, hang a couple of pictures/signs, clean out the closet for his clothes. But this is what we have now. Oh and the door into the room needs painted and the closet door needs a second coat.
I have so much more to share but I guess I'd better go get finished with what needs done today. We only have the rest of today and tomorrow after work to get "prepared."
I'll be back to blog again tomorrow!
We are exhausted. We have cleaned, moved furniture, decluttered, and cleaned some more. In fact I still have clutter to put away but I'm simply exhausted. I know when he gets here Tuesday he won't be expecting to see a spotless house. He just wants to see that we have a safe place for children.
Here's what we have for his room at this point. I'm still waiting on the matching valances and bed skirt.
I have so much more to share but I guess I'd better go get finished with what needs done today. We only have the rest of today and tomorrow after work to get "prepared."
I'll be back to blog again tomorrow!
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