You Say Clementine, I Say Owange.

I'm baaa-aaack.

Finally. I know.

Mom's been on a whole "limited screen-time" kick that dad and I try to ward off, but dang she runs a tough ship, especially with this little dude. Somehow daddio gets away with all sorts of things that are no such luck to me. There's no hiding of controllers from him or taking of his phone or shutting his computer. And no matter how many times I try to say "que pasa?!" the woman just rebuffs me over and over, handing me fake phones and toy trains. Doesn't she know I have followers waiting on my every tweet? No? Well, she oughta.

Anyway, today I'd like to come at you with a secret ritual I've been made privy to: the proper way to eat a clementine.  You see, this whole big world is starting to make sense just a little bit more to me and I'm seeing that things go in a certain order. I mean, babies know the usual- tub follows dinner, teeth follow tub, and then stories, sound machine, music box, and crib. BAM. That's what I call a smoothly run machine. But apparently there is way more out there than I ever would have guessed, rituals that run deep.

Mom showed me this one day all nonchalantly, saying she was tired and didn't want to go to the table, but clearly she was actually just letting me in on the sacred ceremony of maximum enjoyment. So listen closely friends. When you want to eat said clementine, grab one, sit at the coffee table, and make your announcement - "OWANGE." Just like that. Your servant will arrive to peel this delectable treat for you, if you, like me, tend to get it stuck on your finger in a rather unflattering way when you attempt. When he or she is done peeling, place said pieces on the closest book. This will be your plate from here on out. As in, for every clementine meal this season. Make it clear that that book is not to go anywhere lest they want you to starve. Mine happens to be a lovely work on raising chickens in your backyard, AKA the chicken book. I like to think of the chicken on the cover (sweet Henrietta) as my dining companion. She's a fine date indeed. With Henrietta by my side, clementines have never tasted sweeter. From here devour the fruit and hope for a napkin nearby to wipe your face. If none such exists, screw it and run around wildly. They'll catch up with you at some point.

But friends, be warned- there will be times and people that don't respect the sanctity. Dads are a number one culprit. Mine failed me just the other day. I sat down, presented the owange, and he had me come to him. The nerve. I anxiously awaited the peeling to commence knowing that if Hennie saw me eating alone the betrayal would never pass. (Not that I've ever seen it, but I've heard that chicks can hold grudges. It's a place I hope to never go.) The seconds rolled like syrup (which, by the way... where has that BEEN all my life?!) and finally he handed me a piece. While I typically would have shoved it down to free up precious hand space for more, he had to be shown how things work around here. So I used all the will power I could muster and took that piece over to my girl, placed it down on her sweet mug, looked at dad to make sure he got just how serious this was, and picked it up and ate it.

And you know what he did? You'll be as shocked as I was...






He laughed.


I was blown away, and mildly insulted to say the least. But then the truth came like a morning dawn, a sad dawn where the wool has been cleared and your eyes are seeing light for the first time-- clearly mom just doesn't love him enough to show him the good stuff.

That poor, poor man.

I guess I'd rather take my lot sans phones and remotes than his any day. Maybe my mama ain't so bad after all...

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Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be...

I owe you a story that I told you I would tell a week ago. Didn't happen. The story is about a marathon, my first marathon in fact. 

But before I delve into the fascinating deets, let me tell you about a new little non-link-up, link-up that I'm doing on Wednesdays called Whatever Wednesdays.

To spritz us with a little May spirit, Shay and Alissa came up with the idea to have a topic every Wednesday sent out by email a few days before, which we all would then blog about. 

No link-ups. Just writing. Easy peasy!

Today's topic: firsts.

Be cool and join in by emailing whateverwednesdays@yahoo.com. And if you're already in the pack, make sure to leave a comment below so I can come over and have a looksy!

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

When people ask if I ran a marathon, I become a shifty little critter, since I can't truly do that term justice. I make it clear that I completed a marathon, and while I ran the vast majority of the way, my pace might not actually fit the running category. To prove my point, I tell this little tale...

Marathons bring interesting people. Lots of runners (obviously), some walkers and some people who like to be noticed, like those dressed as the Village People or juggling balls while they run. At the beginning of my race, in the midst of thousands of people, I passed one such person, a juggler, and jovially told my friend that at least we could beat him. I mean, please. He's juggling. We merrily trotted away, one foot in front of the other.

Until it truly became one foot in front of the other. For miles. I'm talking, I hit the wall at 17 miles and never got out. Those bricks were smacking me in the face, my feet were cement, and my mind was just screaming. I hated life, I hated the world, I hated every. single. choice I had made that got me there. And I really, super hated the fact that I had 9 miles to go. So one foot in front of the other it was for what was truly an excruciating distance.

When I heard that hope was right around the corner, a fire lit inside me and I ran. I truly ran, sprinting as hard as my legs could pump at this point. Around the bend I went, the curve that just never seemed to end, until I ended up in a tunnel that clearly was not the finish line. And I saw up ahead the 26 mile marker, meaning I had about a quarter mile left, or what I believed I had left about half a mile ago. Slowing, my lungs started screaming for oxygen, and that dang sports induced asthma that I so rarely got jumped on board my train.

So there I was, fighting to breathe, walking for the first time in miles, seriously contemplating sitting down with about .2 miles to go because I just couldn't fight the frustration and tears. Mind over matter though friends, mind over matter. That's what gets you through those last 6 miles. And as my mind took control and I went back to trudging my slug of a body to the finish line, a voice rang out on the loud speaker: "And here he is now! The juggling man!!!"

He beat me. The man juggled, JUGGLED, the entire 26.2 miles while RUNNING, and he beat me. And to pour salt in that danged wound, he made sure to beat me by just enough that I would hear it announced. Bastard. That's all I have to say to you juggling man. You're a mean, mean man. And don't you be thinkin' my tears at the end were 'cause you beat me. No sir! I just had a bug in my eye. (And pained toenails and knees and lungs and cells.)

So friends. My message to you in all of this is please, for the good of mankind and the hearts of us slower-paced folk, do not let your kids grow up to be juggling runners.

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And I Will Try To Fix You

And with this, so concludes the...

Blog Every Day in May Challenge.

Day 31/31 - A vivid memory. 

Disclaimer: This is not a memory of my wedding day. This is a memory of a single moment and the reasons why that moment was so powerful. I look back on that day and smile. I smile the biggest smile that my face can hold. It had a rough start, but became a day full of so much love and laughter that I could barely soak it all in. Our wedding was gorgeous, our reception was magical, and I would JUMP to do it all again. And one day I will write about ALL the good, when I have the time and energy to get that massive quantity down.

That being said, this memory is the hardest to share. It is/was so emotional, in a way that words can't explain. We both knew as it was happening that this was the moment to look down on from above, to lock into a safe place forever. It was beautiful and heart-wrenching, but it wrapped our day up perfectly. I loved it and loathed it and this song still has the power to bring it all rushing back.

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

Our day did not start as planned. It was not full of love, it was not full of manis and pedis and mimosas and crisp, clean robes. It was full of utter exhaustion, tears of frustration and words a bit harsh as we tore around getting things done: tables set up, chairs unfolded, everything in the perfect place for the occasion. It was one of the worst mornings of my life, hard and draining and not the way I wanted my day to begin.

But we made it through. We got past the rough morning to say "I do," sealing our love and promises with a kiss. We took photos, made speeches, twirled around the dance floor and laughed with everyone we love. It was exhilarating and it was beautiful. The biggest high I could imagine.

When night had fallen and only the partiers remained, we got on the dance floor once more together, to the song that was too sad to be our first. Lights twinkled above, the late September air wrapped itself around us, and we let ourselves go to the song written for that day- Fix You.

How I wish it didn't fit. How I wish that I didn't have pent-up emotions to release or things to work through. But I did. While it had been blindingly beautiful, it had also been hard.  It had been ours. Our wedding, our day. The joy and pain were so deeply intertwined. I was raw and had no energy to start sifting through. But this song spoke to me. It allowed a little chunk to come loose, to make its way down me and through him. It shouldered some of the burden and allowed for apologies, both spoken and un.

So as tears rolled down my face on that dance floor, Peyton pulled me closer, whispering the words I so needed to hear. The lights guided us home to each other, right there spinning around. And I may not have known if lessons would be learned or how I would let this go, but I did know that he was there. He was there and he wanted to help. And this song, this heartbreakingly beautiful song, was doing its best to fix me with every word.

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

Coldplay - Fix You

When you try your best, but you don't succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face

When you lose something you can't replace

When you love someone, but it goes to waste

Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

And high up above or down below

When you're too in love to let it go

But if you never try you'll never know

Just what you're worth

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

Tears stream down your face

When you lose something you cannot replace

Tears stream down your face

And I...

Tears stream down your face

I promise you I will learn from my mistakes

Tears stream down your face

And I...

Lights will guide you home

And ignite your bones

And I will try to fix you

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Stay

Blog Every Day in May

Day 25/31 - Something someone told you about yourself that you'll never forget.

There they stood. Two people in a crowd. Two people drawn together by life, tied together by kisses, and wondering what the future held. She was one for words, oodles of words that could take up pages and fill up rooms. He was one for actions, time being the very best gift.

The Austin skyline lit their view standing on that rooftop deck. It was his city; she was just testing the waters. She had needed change, a little shaking up. New people, new experiences, a new opportunity to wipe it all clean and start over. So she moved. With a car and a dog and a trunk full of goods, she crossed the country with hopes to find whatever it was she was looking for.

She wasn't sure what she had found, but she was sure she was happy. It had been right, that much she knew. But he wasn't clear. He held her, he kissed her, his eyes smiled every time they met hers, but he wasn't ready to commit. He wasn't ready to take that leap, to lay his cards down to let her see. He was cautious. He was quiet. He was logical, but love defies logic.

So that night, that clear, warm, August night, when he pulled her to him as though she was his, she couldn't help but smile. It felt right. This night felt right. He'd realize it too, it was in those cards.

"I hope you'll stay. I hope you'll stay for a while."

Not an I love you, not even a commitment, but enough of his heart to show that she was right where she was meant to be. And that this place that had called her to it was indeed exactly what she'd been looking for.

**Linking to On Your Heart and Just Write.**

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Beyond the Curriculum

Blog Every Day in May

Day 23/31 - Things you've learned that school didn't teach you. 

{this is tegan. she didn't go to school.}

Nearly all that I do daily wasn't taught in school: cooking, cleaning, rocking and changing babies. Maybe if I'd had home-ec I'd actually be better at these things (minus the baby wrangling... I'm pretty good at that.) State capitals and geometry and trigonometry got me no where on this race. No where. 

So today I'm doing the twist. I'm looking at what school did teach me that wasn't in the curriculum. I must have gotten some take home after hmmm, eighteen years?

- Perseverance >> If you want something, do it. If you need a 4.0, work as much as you need to to get it. Make a goal and achieve. Don't give up, don't give in.** Even if you don't get there, you will feel oh so good for giving it your all. 

- Procrastination >> If only those up-all-night and printing-papers-two-minutes-before-class-sprints didn't work. It sucks, but it works. I wish I could erase this lesson. I wish it had never coupled with perseverance to make things happen. 

- Tolerance >> There are many, many people who aren't like you. Who don't think the same as you, don't act like you, have different thoughts on life and religion and politics. Everyone's story is different, everyone's walk is different. Maybe your actions of tolerance and understanding will help someone make a change and return the favor to someone else. You will have to deal with SO many different people in your life, so if you can't enjoy what they bring to the table, at least understand that differences are okay. 

So there you have it. Three gifts that school gave me outside of the curriculum, which I guess could just be called life.

What about you? What did school teach you outside of the curriculum? I mean, I guess I could check your blogs and all, and will, but little tidbits are always nice too...

**"Don't give up, don't give in, let me begin... jump around, jump jump jump..." What? You didn't sing it too?

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I've Got Nothing and It All.

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 16/31 - Something difficult about your "lot in life" and how you're working to overcome it. 

I've got nothing. Honestly- nothing.

I've let this topic simmer in my mind for a few days, going over all the things I could say and that list is nonexistent. I could make this funny, but I'm just not feeling it.

I had a part right here with a sad story about a sweet little girl passing. It was awful and unlucky and my heart just aches for her and her family. After some debate though, I decided that it wasn't necessary to include. We shouldn't need to see sorrow to appreciate our own gifts. We should be able to look right in front of us and point them out one by one.

My baby is curled up with his blankie sleeping soundly right now. Sure, his chosen lovey might not be the thing my dreams are made of, but it comforts him. I can hug him. I can kiss him. I can say goodbye to my husband as he leaves for work, hoping that I will clean up this beautiful new house we live in. I might go to Whole Foods later, because we have the money to buy quality goods, or I might just take a walk through the neighborhood, because my legs and body are strong and capable.

My "lot in life" is good. Nitpicking just seems wrong today.

**Looking for something a bit more light-hearted? Sneak a peak at yesterday's.**

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I Here Proclaim This "Declan Day"

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 15/31 - A day in the life.

Chunky cheeks here again. Mom's life revolves around me so I said "Why the fruit pack not?!"

Let's start from the beginning...

** 5:30 ** "AHHHHHHH!!" Gets mom's attention every time. In she stumbles to give me the goods. And some cuddles. Sometimes a baby gets lonely, yo. Just as I get cozy- belly full of milk, paci in mouth-  it's wham, bam, thank you ma'am and I'm back in my crib. Say whhha? I try to scream, but hey, it feels kinda good in here, so my eyes just fade shut.

** 8:00 ** Hello world! Hello day! Hhhhellooo mama.

{i try to be charming to make it clear i want out. and i want out for good.}

From here it gets hazy. I'm a busy baby, and checking the clock just ain't my thing.

{say good morning to my dawg. she tries to get fresh, but i remind her that i'm only one}

{oh breakfast heaven. there's mom trying to embarrass me with her hand on my spoon. i'm one now woman}

{we play balloons.}

{until she goes and ruins it, that is. girls- it's how they roll.}

{get poked and prodded a little.}

{take a walk with my homey.}

{catch mom takin' selfies in her "first room in Austin." geez, woman, get a grip.}

{take note: this is how you peace out of your first room.}

{took control of this moving situation. i mean, dear lard, we've been here about 5,367,fh8 times already. gotta catch dwts before news breaks on facebook.}

{we're going to finals baby! not that i care or anything, but had to pretend since she actually let me watch tv.}

And that's that. Not counting the mortifying things like diaper changes and naps, that is. But who really wants to see that? Not even me. 

Until next time. It's been real. 

**Check out my last post. I dare ya.**

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Come On Get Happy

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 14/31 - Ten things that make you really happy. 

{first off, declan's look? priceless. the life jacket? priceless. the seventies porn star? mine all mine.}

1. Spending a hot day on the water.

2. A clean house complete with clean dogs. 

3. Pink.

{via}

4. Going with your gut and doing something crazy. For me, Utah. 35 days!

5. Baltimore and all the love it contains.

6. When the mister makes me food that I really, really want. 

7. Falling Water by Frank Lloyd Wright. It is hands down the most incredible space. 

{via... though on second thought, it actually makes me sad that i just can't have it.}

8. Showering, shaving, then sliding into crisp, clean sheets. 

9. Hunkering down during a Christmas blizzard. 

10. Sitting outside writing this, constant companion by my side.

What about you fine folks? What makes YOU smile?

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What I Miss

Blog Every Day in May Challenge
Day 12/31 - What do you miss?

It's Mother's Day, so plain and simple-

I miss my mom. 

Wish we could celebrate together, momma. I love you.

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

And a big Happy Mother's Day hug to all you other mamas out there. 

We're just about the best thing ever... not that I'm biased or anything. 

Here's a little video for ya. 

Waterworks. Every. Time.

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I'm Scared of Sh*t

{here i am. blissfully unaware. oh, to go back.}

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 7/31 - The thing(s) you're most afraid of

This is a prompt that I could get serious on- my fears of someone I love getting cancer or my deep fear of failure that sometimes holds me back- but in honor of the baby's birthday (Saturday, by the way, in case you haven't sent your presents) I thought back over my first-time mom fears. Sure, there were those quick jolts awake thinking I'd smooshed him even though he was rooms away or the worries that he'd stopped breathing, but today I want to talk about something far worse: mama's first post-baby poop.

Friends, no one told me. I went into this unaware. Blinders officially on. I had the baby, healed a bit in the hospital, was handed some pain meds and headed on home. It was only upon closer inspection that I realized one of my prized medicines was a softener. I stood there, bottle in hand, mentally counting the days since I'd pood, and realized three was quite a few.

So I took those pills faithfully. That day, the next, and even the next. We'd made it to six days, and still nothing. It was brutal. The waiting, the uncertainty, the fear. Surely all that I had eaten wasn't going to the milk, was it? But heavens above, please let it be. Because six days worth would be... downright frightful.

Let's just say it was bad. Like, they need to explain when you're discharged that you'll be repeating the experience bad. Like, take your pain meds before it happens bad.

You're ceviche, my friends. Ceviche and swollen and muscles are shot. And then this?! Unfair.

Good news is I made it through. And I'll make it through again. You will too. It's not quite as scary as recounted above. It's just the anticipation and the unknown. And the severe discomfort. There is that too. But keep in mind that you've just given birth and are sustaining a little human being. You're kinda, totally superwoman, and you can take this poo on properly.

Plus, unlike me, you'll be armed with knowledge and preparedness that's not usually given.
So for that I say, "You're welcome."

**Hop on over to Story of My Life for more of day 7!**

*I'd like to give a shout-out to my new found friend, Shaylynn. Without her assistance in this matter, I would not have had excrement on my mind so much. Check her out. She's pretty great.*

(And Shay, sorry for the post. It's the truth, and sometimes that just hurts.)

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What I Do

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 6/31 - Non-professionally, what do you do?

I love those around me. I give hugs, and lots of them. Hoisting a baby up on my hip and back down again happens often- over and over and over. I love on him, that sweet baby of mine.

I waste time. I feel guilty about said wasted time. I work on balance. Then I sit in front of my computer to research how to find said balance, which is certainly not wasted time.

I dream. In my sleep and in my wake. I dream of what I could do, what I could be. I dream of what twenty more years will look like. I dream of what next Monday will look like.

I love things that I don't do enough of. Running. Reading. Crafting. Writing. Probably due to that silly wasted time.

I take too many pictures. I don't take enough pictures.

I push a stroller and I throw a ball. I read Goodnight Moon for the 289th time and tuck the baby in for the third that day. I snack, snack, snack and try to figure out what to actually eat while standing there snacking.  I clean, but not enough. I cook, but not enough. I sometimes feel guilty a bit too much.

And at the end of each day I wind up on the couch- with my husband, some food, and a favorite show- knowing that I'm wasting time but loving it all the same.

**Check out other posts at Story Of My Life**

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Story of My Life, Condensed Like Sweet Milk

Here I am. The first of May, sitting down to start this freakin' challenge. I have banana nut muffin pancakes in my belly and eyelids that are just a bit too heavy. The baby is sleeping, the husband is still sleeping, and I am going to persevere and tell you the story of my life in roughly 250 words.

I was born on January 30, 1987 in Baltimore, Maryland to a mid-western mother and British father. Their love of traveling is now instilled in me, and I’m thankful to have been taken exploring as a child. Beyond that, my childhood was pretty true to the region- firefly catching at dusk, running barefoot in alleys, sailing on the bay, wearing pajamas inside-out-and-backwards to bring on the snow then tunneling through on the rare times it did. My friends and I were entrepreneurs- holding yard sales and pet sitting services and sending off inspired beanie baby ideas. Most of this actually hasn't changed.

I went to my neighborhood Catholic grade school and a Lutheran high school. My father is agnostic, mother is Quaker, and husband is atheist, so there are quite a few religious viewpoints welled up in my mind, the combination of which has led to a belief that love and kindness are what matter most.

When Charm City life got stale (at the ripe old age of 21), my pup and I up and moved to Austin, TX. In those five years I met and married my beau, finished my undergrad degree, had a dashing baby, and bought a house. I still miss my mom and home on the regular, will never truly be a Texan, and rarely feel like I'm doing enough. But I love Austin, love my family, and really, truly love my chosen path.

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

And so concludes day one. 

Can I get a what-WHAT!

Baby is now up and splashing in the dog water bowl for the 123rd time since discovery approximately 22 hours ago, so I think it's time to peace.

Until tomorrow,

**Make sure to go check out others' stories at Story Of My Life!**

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The Games We Play

Back in the day, before Peyton and I were officially Peyton and I, we were friends. Best friends I liked to think. My husband, though, was a little slower on the uptake...

First off, this story takes place on a trip to Home Depot. Not a very friendship-y activity, I'd say.

Second? We were diving into the Table Topics life questions, because every chance in a budding relationship holds infinite opportunities to learn the deepest, most intimate pieces of someone's soul. (You know: wheat or white, flat-head or phillips, dog or cat. Those types of things.) And once again, not an activity that I strike up with any old Joe on the street.

So there we are in the car, partaking in a Home Depot trip full of deep, probing questions, soaking in each other's presence and connecting with our heart-to-heart.

"Who would you choose to live on a deserted island with for two years?"

Peyton ponders this, for a bit too long it seems. "Chico? Noo, man. I don't think I could last that long with him... I don't know."

He was truly struggling.

"I don't think there's anyone. Nope, no one. What about you? Who would you pick?"

So I go for it, the first person that popped in my head. "Well... You."

Let's just say there were crickets. And pins dropping. And the man with the sad fiddle was about to step up.

"Oh, um, YEA. Yea, me too!" Some overly emphatic nodding and a pleased smile ensued.

"I'd pick you."

And not one to be proven wrong, the man up and married me. Now if only he'd focus on the whole Mediterranean yacht thing, we'd be one step closer to that deserted island.

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Sunday Funday

Oi. Monday morning after a long night. The birds chirping and the sun slowly rising are beautiful and all, but it's like they are rubbing the roughness of the last six hours in my face. Besides me feeling a bit negligent right now and wanting to hug my baby a bit tighter, all is well and he is fast asleep. But still. OI to Mondays!

Luckily I have a good weekend behind me complete with pictures to look back on. That makes even the worst Monday shine a bit brighter. 

Saturday was one of those much needed rest days where besides going to music class, the three of us just holed up at home. After being out of the house for seven out of the past nine nights, I was so ready for this breed of relaxation. Home-cooked meals, a nap with the baby, and snuggling to finally catch up on last week's Downton hit the spot. 

Sunday was the opposite, but also so good.

We began with chais and mochas by Town Lake to bid farewell to the lovely Matt and Molly, some of our absolute favorites. 

{declan was not too pleased to hear those two were leaving}

The plan is for them to move here, have lots of babies, and hang out with me and Declan all day. 

Sounds perfectly reasonable and totally awesome, right?

Declan then squeezed in a nap to get his game face on for a fundraiser done the proper Austin way.

Indoor/outdoor bar, Fritos pie in a bag, raffles, and live music. Who could ask for more?!

Well, we could. That's why we got some Elyse, Dianna, raffle prizes, and moscow mules in red mugs,

with a "wham, bam, thank you ma'am" thrown in for good measure.

I had my eye on one prize and one prize only- a $100 gift certificate to Midtown Groom & Board. A ninety-pound german shepherd's shedding is nothing to mess with. It is massively complex and leaves little Tegan dogs in each and every corner. And yes, maybe if I brushed her more than every month or so it would get better and maybe it also wouldn't take an hour each time.

But I don't. 

I've come to accept this, and so should you Peytonia! 

When I saw this package I knew it was going to be mine. That was until some dude named John went up to claim it, and my dream three days of clean, groomed Tegan blew away in the wind. But fate is fate and I knew I couldn't let it go that easily. So up I marched to this John fellow, Tegan picture in hand, with a story of how my marriage would fail if my tyrannical husband had to deal with any more fur from that dog. (Not necessarily false, might I add.) And ya know what? He didn't even have a dog, didn't want to hear my story, and just gave the whole box to me! I consider this to be the best weekend gift of any February 17th ever. 

Declan also had some fun sharing a little two-step with the lovely Miss Kim. 

F-U-N. Written all over his little-man face. 

The night ended as Elyse celebrated the raffle she excitedly won but actually didn't by buying a round of shots for all. Poor friend. What are the chances of having more than one Elyse in a room of thirty people?!

So all in all, we had a fantastic time enjoying our city, our friends, and our prizes, but also knowing that our money was going to help the fight against muscular dystrophy. For that I say, winner, winner, tofu dinner!

How was your weekend? Any fun shenanigans? Ever won an awesome raffle prize or just been given it for asking?? You should try. It's pretty grand.

Happy Monday!

**We'd love for you to follow along on GFC or Facebook! Tabs on the side -->.**
:) :) :) XOXOXO <3<3<3

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