Five years ago today, my daughter Sarah entered the world at a little more than 7 pounds and 21 inches long. Today, she's right around 50 pounds and about three feet tall. And she's not here.
I carried her inside me for nine months. I loved her before I even knew she was a her. When the medical staff cut her out of my belly after 16 hours of useless labor, my first question was if she was ok. I remember Becca saying to me, "She's perfect." She still is perfect. But she's not here.
The nurses cleaned her off and gave her to her Daddy. I could hear the sound of Brent sniffling, crying like the proud father he's always been. I could hear that because her crying had stopped the moment she was in his arms, the special bond between a father and daughter already working it's magic. Because of the drugs, I don't remember the first time I held her. And I can't hold her now. Because she's not here.
I do remember her being brought to me in the middle of her first night so that I could nurse her. Everything was so silent and still. I held her in my arms, and sang "Desperado" to her, as I have many nights since. I won't get to do that tonight. She's at her Daddy's and she's not going to be here.
The second night she was home, I had a massive panic attack. It all became too real, too much. I finally got out of the bed, and with tears in my eyes, I told my mother-in-law, "I don't know what the hell I'm doing." She smiled and replied, "Welcome to being a mom." That was the best parenting advice I ever received. Because I quickly realized I didn't need to know much of anything. Sarah knew what she needed, all I had to do was be there for her. But today, she's not here.
At every milestone, every change, Sarah has led me. While I'm teaching her how to grow up, she's teaching me how to be a mom, and how to be a better person. She's grown into this terrific little girl. She's kind and thoughtful and giving and hysterical. She's creative and artistic and well-mannered and brilliant. She dances and sings and talks about poop too much. She wants to be an ambulance driver/police officer/dancer/obstetrician. She loves superheroes and My Little Pony and Star Wars and books and emojis and spooky stories.
Today, my little girl is five years old. And for the first time, she's not with me. But she will be in a couple of days. I'll smother her with hugs and kisses. I'll read to her, and play with her, and teach her things. And I'll never, for one second, let her forget that she's surrounded by people who love her and will always support her. I love you, Sarah Bethany. You're the greatest thing I've ever done.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Friday, October 28, 2016
This Is The End
When I started posting blogs again, I was so excited. I had a notebook full of topics I was gonna write about, and I had every intention of doing this regularly. But, man (and woman) plans, and God laughs. I, rather unexpectedly and suddenly, found myself going through a divorce.
Does anybody really know what divorce is like? I've read several first-person experiences, I've heard other people's stories. But they've mostly been long after the fact. Nobody seems to want to talk about the mess while they're in the middle of it. Maybe because it feels too big, too scary, too urgent. I don't know what anyone else feels, going through divorce. But I'm gonna tell you how I feel. Maybe it'll help someone else. Maybe it'll help me; Lord knows I need some kind of help. So, this is what divorce is like, for me.
It's getting a brick thrown at your stomach when the person you've been with half your life tells you they're not in love with you anymore.
It's feeling your heart break late at night (because you can't sleep) when you realize you're not in love with them either, but you weren't willing to quit.
It's kicking yourself for not meeting with that attorney three years ago when you were willing to quit and wondering if you wasted those three years.
It's wondering if, aside from your kid, you wasted all those years.
It's being a little mad at God because, you truly believe God told you this was the one and you wonder why the hell He told you that if it was going to end like this.
It's resenting that your partner won't even try counseling because, evidently, a 20 year relationship and a kid aren't even worth trying everything to save.
It's realizing that if your partner doesn't think the marriage is worth saving, you deserve better. And it's trying not to feel guilty for thinking that, or thinking about yourself at all, especially since you've rarely thought of yourself in 20 years.
It's trying to find a job with no degree after 4 1/2 years of being a stay at home mom. And trying to find a place to live because the thought of staying in the house makes you want to scream.
It's getting excited at the thought of a new life, one in which your wants and needs and hopes and dreams matter.
It's having to explain to a four-year-old that mommy and daddy aren't going to live together anymore, and realizing kids get broken hearts too.
It's not having time to mourn the death of your marriage because you have to work and parent and meet with lawyers and generally keep living. There's no time for the emotional breakdown you deserve, so you cry in the bathroom at work or during your commute, then suck it up because life goes on, with or without you. You consider getting false eyelashes because you can't be trusted with mascara.
It's worrying about your kid because her parents are separated, she's starting school, and she's seeing mom go to work full-time, and that's a lot for a kid to deal with. And, for the first time, you're not there for her 24/7.
It's realizing that the upside to 50-50 custody is me-time, which you rarely had while married.
It's eating nothing but chocolate ice cream for weeks because the thought of real food makes you nauseous. Then hating yourself for being fat and disgusting.
It's noticing that your face cleared up and that, chocolate aside, you've lost weight and you feel beautiful.
It's having to avoid certain movies and songs because they're so strongly associated with your former partner and you just can't handle that yet. It's wondering if you can ever handle it.
It's not wanting him back because you know that eventually you'll be better off and you're just hoping you can hurry up and feel that way.
It's constantly beating down the hopeful, foolish part of you that, even now, just a little, believes that your love story is too epic to end in such a pathetic and final way.
It's trying to date, if only to wash the taste of your failed marriage out of your mouth, then realizing you haven't dated since you were 19 and you don't have a clue how it works.
It's cycling through the stages of grief regularly, because no matter how much you wish you could cut your ex out of your life, you keep having to talk to them and see them. You share a child and you know he's a good dad, so you try to make it work.
It's absolutely despising the fact that, while he has his own struggles, getting over you clearly isn't one of them. Then you really fucking hate yourself for giving so much of yourself to someone who isn't even sad you're gone, apparently.
It's being told that you're bitter, like you're not allowed to be, and that your feelings aren't valid.
It's trying to navigate the murky, uncharted waters of coparenting and friendship with this person who you once considered your one true love, and both of you fucking up from time to time and then having to fix it.
It's having to own your flaws and trying to learn from your mistakes so you can be the person, the woman, the mother, the friend, and, maybe someday, the partner you want to be.
It's wondering which of your flaws and mistakes killed your marriage, even though you know that death wasn't all your fault.
It's trying to write about divorce without bringing up your ex's flaws and mistakes, because you're committed to taking the high road, and because his issues aren't the focus of your life anymore.
It's second-guessing everything you do, because for the first time in your adult life the only person whose opinion matters is your own.
It's getting to make decisions only for the betterment of your daughter's life and your own.
It's being so lonely that you sometimes burst into tears at night by yourself. And then realizing you were that lonely before the divorce, so then you cry about what a fool you were instead.
It's realizing that you have some of the best friends and family, and that as long as you have them, you'll never have to question if you are loved or even worthy of it.
It's a whiplash inducing emotional roller coaster. 0/5, do not recommend. But, if you have to deal with it one day, know you're not alone. Know you're not crazy if you feel all these things. Know that I still have faith and hope. I know that I'll get through this one day. I know that I have too many good things to offer and too much love to give to let this destroy me. On my good days I'm OK. And on my bad days, I know I'll be OK.
Does anybody really know what divorce is like? I've read several first-person experiences, I've heard other people's stories. But they've mostly been long after the fact. Nobody seems to want to talk about the mess while they're in the middle of it. Maybe because it feels too big, too scary, too urgent. I don't know what anyone else feels, going through divorce. But I'm gonna tell you how I feel. Maybe it'll help someone else. Maybe it'll help me; Lord knows I need some kind of help. So, this is what divorce is like, for me.
It's getting a brick thrown at your stomach when the person you've been with half your life tells you they're not in love with you anymore.
It's feeling your heart break late at night (because you can't sleep) when you realize you're not in love with them either, but you weren't willing to quit.
It's kicking yourself for not meeting with that attorney three years ago when you were willing to quit and wondering if you wasted those three years.
It's wondering if, aside from your kid, you wasted all those years.
It's being a little mad at God because, you truly believe God told you this was the one and you wonder why the hell He told you that if it was going to end like this.
It's resenting that your partner won't even try counseling because, evidently, a 20 year relationship and a kid aren't even worth trying everything to save.
It's realizing that if your partner doesn't think the marriage is worth saving, you deserve better. And it's trying not to feel guilty for thinking that, or thinking about yourself at all, especially since you've rarely thought of yourself in 20 years.
It's trying to find a job with no degree after 4 1/2 years of being a stay at home mom. And trying to find a place to live because the thought of staying in the house makes you want to scream.
It's getting excited at the thought of a new life, one in which your wants and needs and hopes and dreams matter.
It's having to explain to a four-year-old that mommy and daddy aren't going to live together anymore, and realizing kids get broken hearts too.
It's not having time to mourn the death of your marriage because you have to work and parent and meet with lawyers and generally keep living. There's no time for the emotional breakdown you deserve, so you cry in the bathroom at work or during your commute, then suck it up because life goes on, with or without you. You consider getting false eyelashes because you can't be trusted with mascara.
It's worrying about your kid because her parents are separated, she's starting school, and she's seeing mom go to work full-time, and that's a lot for a kid to deal with. And, for the first time, you're not there for her 24/7.
It's realizing that the upside to 50-50 custody is me-time, which you rarely had while married.
It's eating nothing but chocolate ice cream for weeks because the thought of real food makes you nauseous. Then hating yourself for being fat and disgusting.
It's noticing that your face cleared up and that, chocolate aside, you've lost weight and you feel beautiful.
It's having to avoid certain movies and songs because they're so strongly associated with your former partner and you just can't handle that yet. It's wondering if you can ever handle it.
It's not wanting him back because you know that eventually you'll be better off and you're just hoping you can hurry up and feel that way.
It's constantly beating down the hopeful, foolish part of you that, even now, just a little, believes that your love story is too epic to end in such a pathetic and final way.
It's trying to date, if only to wash the taste of your failed marriage out of your mouth, then realizing you haven't dated since you were 19 and you don't have a clue how it works.
It's cycling through the stages of grief regularly, because no matter how much you wish you could cut your ex out of your life, you keep having to talk to them and see them. You share a child and you know he's a good dad, so you try to make it work.
It's absolutely despising the fact that, while he has his own struggles, getting over you clearly isn't one of them. Then you really fucking hate yourself for giving so much of yourself to someone who isn't even sad you're gone, apparently.
It's being told that you're bitter, like you're not allowed to be, and that your feelings aren't valid.
It's trying to navigate the murky, uncharted waters of coparenting and friendship with this person who you once considered your one true love, and both of you fucking up from time to time and then having to fix it.
It's having to own your flaws and trying to learn from your mistakes so you can be the person, the woman, the mother, the friend, and, maybe someday, the partner you want to be.
It's wondering which of your flaws and mistakes killed your marriage, even though you know that death wasn't all your fault.
It's trying to write about divorce without bringing up your ex's flaws and mistakes, because you're committed to taking the high road, and because his issues aren't the focus of your life anymore.
It's second-guessing everything you do, because for the first time in your adult life the only person whose opinion matters is your own.
It's getting to make decisions only for the betterment of your daughter's life and your own.
It's being so lonely that you sometimes burst into tears at night by yourself. And then realizing you were that lonely before the divorce, so then you cry about what a fool you were instead.
It's realizing that you have some of the best friends and family, and that as long as you have them, you'll never have to question if you are loved or even worthy of it.
It's a whiplash inducing emotional roller coaster. 0/5, do not recommend. But, if you have to deal with it one day, know you're not alone. Know you're not crazy if you feel all these things. Know that I still have faith and hope. I know that I'll get through this one day. I know that I have too many good things to offer and too much love to give to let this destroy me. On my good days I'm OK. And on my bad days, I know I'll be OK.
Thursday, April 28, 2016
We Are Family
I've been thinking about this post since Thursday. I've had occasion recently to spend more time with my sister-from-another-mister and that started the wheels turning. I've also had some new developments in my personal life that have made this even more timely.
Family. Its a strange, varied concept. Here is where I could use that old essay tip and break out the definition, in all its variations. But I'm not gonna do that. I'm willing to bet that most people in my generation (either X or Millennial, depending on who one asks, although I prefer Generation Catalano) see the same image when we think of "family": parents and their kids. We probably think this even though most of us didn't grow up in a two-parent household. And of course, we know there's other types of families. Single parents, step parents and step kids, half siblings, same sex marriages with either adopted or biological children, grandparents caring for their grandkids, foster kids and foster parents. That's not even taking into account extended family members.
I fall into one of the unusual categories. I was adopted as an infant. A few years later, my adoptive parents had a biological child of their own, my younger brother. It makes for some interesting anecdotes. But one of the best things it has given me is a very loose definition of what family means. I was told very young that I was adopted and was given a book titled The Chosen Baby. Like most adoptees, I got the whole "we chose you" spiel. Which is true, to a point; adoption is a topic for another day. But that little bit of information has stuck with me all my life. I was chosen. People can choose their families. Its not all based on blood or legality.
We choose who we love. Who we keep close to us. Who we share our secrets, our lives, our souls with. It doesn't have to be your parents or your grandparents. Sometimes, those people are toxic. Sadly, there's nothing we can do about it as children. But once we're grown and independent, we can choose our families. Do other people realize this? Is it just something I learned from being adopted? I hope not. But just in case it is, please hear me now: Your family is your choice. Sure, you can't stop being kin to someone. But that doesn't mean you have to allow any and all blood relatives into your life. Blood doesn't mean shit. At least, it doesn't have to. When it comes to family, all that matters is love and loyalty. Even more specifically, love and loyalty that goes both ways. It must be reciprocated. You can love your dad all you want, but if he doesn't love you back, if he's not loyal to playing the role of father to you, he's not worthy of the title. If he's a deadbeat, or throws you over for other people, he's not worth it. Same with any family member.
It hurts. Of course it hurts to realize these people who you have believed are family aren't really worthy of that designation. I won't minimize that at all. But you have to move past it. And its incredibly freeing to realize that you can choose your family. It doesn't mean you replace them; it just means that you choose someone worthy of that honor to be in your life. And maybe you'll never meet another person whom you feel comfortable considering your father or sister or aunt. But you can meet someone who is better-suited to fill the empty spaces in your life where those people should be.That also doesn't mean that you won't have arguments or hard times; love isn't easy, and life ain't always sunshine and rainbows. It does mean that you both will value your relationship enough to work through the hard times, like family should.
I am Cecilia. Becca is not related to me by blood or law, but she's my sister anyways. Our love and loyalty for one another knows no bounds, and that's what family means to me.
Family. Its a strange, varied concept. Here is where I could use that old essay tip and break out the definition, in all its variations. But I'm not gonna do that. I'm willing to bet that most people in my generation (either X or Millennial, depending on who one asks, although I prefer Generation Catalano) see the same image when we think of "family": parents and their kids. We probably think this even though most of us didn't grow up in a two-parent household. And of course, we know there's other types of families. Single parents, step parents and step kids, half siblings, same sex marriages with either adopted or biological children, grandparents caring for their grandkids, foster kids and foster parents. That's not even taking into account extended family members.
I fall into one of the unusual categories. I was adopted as an infant. A few years later, my adoptive parents had a biological child of their own, my younger brother. It makes for some interesting anecdotes. But one of the best things it has given me is a very loose definition of what family means. I was told very young that I was adopted and was given a book titled The Chosen Baby. Like most adoptees, I got the whole "we chose you" spiel. Which is true, to a point; adoption is a topic for another day. But that little bit of information has stuck with me all my life. I was chosen. People can choose their families. Its not all based on blood or legality.
We choose who we love. Who we keep close to us. Who we share our secrets, our lives, our souls with. It doesn't have to be your parents or your grandparents. Sometimes, those people are toxic. Sadly, there's nothing we can do about it as children. But once we're grown and independent, we can choose our families. Do other people realize this? Is it just something I learned from being adopted? I hope not. But just in case it is, please hear me now: Your family is your choice. Sure, you can't stop being kin to someone. But that doesn't mean you have to allow any and all blood relatives into your life. Blood doesn't mean shit. At least, it doesn't have to. When it comes to family, all that matters is love and loyalty. Even more specifically, love and loyalty that goes both ways. It must be reciprocated. You can love your dad all you want, but if he doesn't love you back, if he's not loyal to playing the role of father to you, he's not worthy of the title. If he's a deadbeat, or throws you over for other people, he's not worth it. Same with any family member.
It hurts. Of course it hurts to realize these people who you have believed are family aren't really worthy of that designation. I won't minimize that at all. But you have to move past it. And its incredibly freeing to realize that you can choose your family. It doesn't mean you replace them; it just means that you choose someone worthy of that honor to be in your life. And maybe you'll never meet another person whom you feel comfortable considering your father or sister or aunt. But you can meet someone who is better-suited to fill the empty spaces in your life where those people should be.That also doesn't mean that you won't have arguments or hard times; love isn't easy, and life ain't always sunshine and rainbows. It does mean that you both will value your relationship enough to work through the hard times, like family should.
I am Cecilia. Becca is not related to me by blood or law, but she's my sister anyways. Our love and loyalty for one another knows no bounds, and that's what family means to me.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
When Ya Gotta Go, Ya Gotta Go
Let's talk about this transgender bathroom law. I think we need to use some common sense, some empathy, and a little education. First, let's talk about some people who use public restrooms.
This is me:
Its an old picture, but you get the general idea. I was born female. I identify as female. I use the women's restroom when I must go in public.
This is my husband, Brent:
He was born male. He identifies as male. He uses the men's room when he must go in public.
This is my sister from another mister, Becca:
She was born female. She identifies as female. She uses the lady's room when she must go in public. However, to this day, she still gets called "Sir" on a regular basis, simply because she doesn't look as "female" as some think she should.
This is a model named Ben Melzer:
He was born female. He identifies as male. I do not know him personally, but given that he identifies as male, and looks male, he probably uses the men's restroom when he's out in public and has to go.
This is an actress named Laverne Cox:
She was born male. She identifies as female. I do not know her personally, but I'm willing to bet she uses the lady's room when she needs to go in public.
You will notice that in each of these people's descriptions, I didn't mention two things: who they sleep with and what type of genitalia they possess. That's because neither of those things have anything to do with transgender people or which bathroom anyone uses.
I'm 36 years old. I've been using public restrooms a long time. I cannot remember a single time I've ever seen someone's vulva or vagina in a public restroom. Even if you mistakenly open an occupied stall's door, you simply see someone sitting on a toilet, pants and underwear around their ankles. Because I'm only half the population, I had to ask Brent about the men's room. I know they have urinals, where one could conceivably see a penis, but he has assured me that it's considered bad form to look over at another man's junk while they're peeing. He also told me that he's never seen another man's full-on naughty bits while in a men's restroom. There are also stalls in men's rooms, and I assume they work mostly the same as in the women's room. So, most people go into the corresponding bathroom based on whether they are male or female, but we take those people at their word because none of us are in there to check out someone else's genitals.
Now that we've gotten a discussion about public restrooms out of the way, let's talk about this law. The law North Carolina just passed that everyone is talking about states that we each must use the restroom of the gender listed on our birth certificate. Now, the thought is, with more people publicly coming out as transgender, this will protect citizens from perverts who would claim to be transgender to get into a public restroom and...be perverts, I guess. I've never had that experience in a public restroom, but I imagine it happens.
The problem with the law is this: Those last 2 pictures, that man and that woman, would have to use the bathroom of the gender of their birth. Now, you can think they're sinners, deviants, mentally ill, what have you. I disagree, but you're welcome to your opinion. To me, Ms. Cox looks like a woman, regardless of her birth certificate or what might be between her legs. Under North Carolina's law, if she used a public restroom there, she would be forced to use the men's room. Same situation with Mr. Melzer, he would be forced to use the women's restroom unless he wanted to break the law.
Like I said, I've never been the victim of public restroom perversion, but I'm sure it happens. And I'd imagine that, when it does, the victims, or just people observing sketchy behavior, alert either the management or the police. But now, I can see many people reporting Mr. Melzer in the lady's room, even though this law forces him to be there. Because he looks like a man. And a man in the lady's room is questionable and the very thing that these lawmakers say they are trying to avoid with this law. Seems like people that look male and are actually male can now just walk in the lady's room and we'd have no way of knowing if they were perverts or transgender.
And all these people crying about their kids in the bathroom, they don't want their kids around perverts. Seriously?!? You don't think you're gonna have a harder time explaining why Ms. Cox is in the men's restroom than you would if she just went to the women's, which is where she rightfully belongs? And what about my daughter? She's four, not yet old enough to use a public restroom unattended. My husband, her father, takes her out on "dates" pretty regularly. What would happen under this law? Right now, she goes into the men's with him. He sticks his head in and checks out the room, then ushers her to a stall. She does her business, washes, and leaves. But, she was born female, and would need to use a lady's room. Does she now have to go by herself? Is there an exception for children? What about special needs kids?
Before this law, I'm sure we all just went in the bathroom, did our business, and left. We probably couldn't have remembered who else was in there if our life depended on it, unless someone was acting shady. I would imagine Ms. Cox in the lady's room, or Mr. Melzer in the men's room, would have raised no eyebrows. Laws should be made to protect people and solve problems. This law will possibly out many transgender people, leading perhaps to violence committed against them. This law is creating many more problems than it solves. It is ridiculous and possibly harmful to part of the population of North Carolina. It needs to go. And I'll leave which restroom's toilet it gets flushed down up to someone else.
This is me:
This is my husband, Brent:
This is my sister from another mister, Becca:
She was born female. She identifies as female. She uses the lady's room when she must go in public. However, to this day, she still gets called "Sir" on a regular basis, simply because she doesn't look as "female" as some think she should.
This is a model named Ben Melzer:
This is an actress named Laverne Cox:
You will notice that in each of these people's descriptions, I didn't mention two things: who they sleep with and what type of genitalia they possess. That's because neither of those things have anything to do with transgender people or which bathroom anyone uses.
I'm 36 years old. I've been using public restrooms a long time. I cannot remember a single time I've ever seen someone's vulva or vagina in a public restroom. Even if you mistakenly open an occupied stall's door, you simply see someone sitting on a toilet, pants and underwear around their ankles. Because I'm only half the population, I had to ask Brent about the men's room. I know they have urinals, where one could conceivably see a penis, but he has assured me that it's considered bad form to look over at another man's junk while they're peeing. He also told me that he's never seen another man's full-on naughty bits while in a men's restroom. There are also stalls in men's rooms, and I assume they work mostly the same as in the women's room. So, most people go into the corresponding bathroom based on whether they are male or female, but we take those people at their word because none of us are in there to check out someone else's genitals.
Now that we've gotten a discussion about public restrooms out of the way, let's talk about this law. The law North Carolina just passed that everyone is talking about states that we each must use the restroom of the gender listed on our birth certificate. Now, the thought is, with more people publicly coming out as transgender, this will protect citizens from perverts who would claim to be transgender to get into a public restroom and...be perverts, I guess. I've never had that experience in a public restroom, but I imagine it happens.
The problem with the law is this: Those last 2 pictures, that man and that woman, would have to use the bathroom of the gender of their birth. Now, you can think they're sinners, deviants, mentally ill, what have you. I disagree, but you're welcome to your opinion. To me, Ms. Cox looks like a woman, regardless of her birth certificate or what might be between her legs. Under North Carolina's law, if she used a public restroom there, she would be forced to use the men's room. Same situation with Mr. Melzer, he would be forced to use the women's restroom unless he wanted to break the law.
Like I said, I've never been the victim of public restroom perversion, but I'm sure it happens. And I'd imagine that, when it does, the victims, or just people observing sketchy behavior, alert either the management or the police. But now, I can see many people reporting Mr. Melzer in the lady's room, even though this law forces him to be there. Because he looks like a man. And a man in the lady's room is questionable and the very thing that these lawmakers say they are trying to avoid with this law. Seems like people that look male and are actually male can now just walk in the lady's room and we'd have no way of knowing if they were perverts or transgender.
And all these people crying about their kids in the bathroom, they don't want their kids around perverts. Seriously?!? You don't think you're gonna have a harder time explaining why Ms. Cox is in the men's restroom than you would if she just went to the women's, which is where she rightfully belongs? And what about my daughter? She's four, not yet old enough to use a public restroom unattended. My husband, her father, takes her out on "dates" pretty regularly. What would happen under this law? Right now, she goes into the men's with him. He sticks his head in and checks out the room, then ushers her to a stall. She does her business, washes, and leaves. But, she was born female, and would need to use a lady's room. Does she now have to go by herself? Is there an exception for children? What about special needs kids?
Before this law, I'm sure we all just went in the bathroom, did our business, and left. We probably couldn't have remembered who else was in there if our life depended on it, unless someone was acting shady. I would imagine Ms. Cox in the lady's room, or Mr. Melzer in the men's room, would have raised no eyebrows. Laws should be made to protect people and solve problems. This law will possibly out many transgender people, leading perhaps to violence committed against them. This law is creating many more problems than it solves. It is ridiculous and possibly harmful to part of the population of North Carolina. It needs to go. And I'll leave which restroom's toilet it gets flushed down up to someone else.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)