Thursday, July 28, 2011

Olley

Vale Margaret Olley, Australian artist who died on 26 July 2011 this week at the age of 88


(Cyclamens and Apples 2005)


(daisies and pears 1978)

She recently sat for a portrait by Ben Quilty, which won this year's Archibald Prize, here it is.



Olley was a figurative painter of great skill, who produced wonderful still lifes, which seem so old fashioned these days and yet full of life and light and substance.  What, really, could be more wonderful than a perfect bunch of flowers and a bowl of fruit sitting in the sunshine. 



(Poppies 2004)

(spare bedroom, 1970, which is at the Lismore Art Gallery)

She always struck me as a very determined person, not at all a flighty scatty artist.   And I love her food \ flower combinations.  Others include cornflowers and pomegranates, cliveas and mandarins and ranunculas and watermelon).


(Quinces and Marigolds 2005)

The older you get of course the more you can get away with saying what you want.  I love this quote of Olley's:

'I’ve never liked housework. I get by doing little chores when I feel like them, in between paintings. Who wants to chase dust all their life? You can spend your whole lifetime cleaning the house. I like watching the patina grow. If the house looks dirty, buy another bunch of flowers, is my advice.'

(from the biography by Meg Stewart you can read a review of this here).  

She certainly took her own advice because here she is in her studio:


The Sydney Morning Herald's obit is here. 

One of my ambitions in life, if you could call it that, is to reach such a ripe age, say what I want, paint what I want, and clean when I want (or not).

(all still life images from Eva Breuer)

Monday, July 18, 2011

Rainforest

Location: rainforest north west of Mosman, in tropical far north Queensland.




Weather conditions:  warm and dry.  A bit of tropical rain at night, but what could be nicer. 

Lazy act of self indulgence: being woken up at 6.45 every morning by shouty son, putting him in front of ABC Kids on TV and going back to bed.  





Assignment:  lots of swimming, eating and sleeping.  And standing on rocks.  And running up and down the grass rather pointlessly. 


Participants:  two small wet children, one happy husband, one very happy me. 




Local natives:  Beware of screeching tropical birds in the night. And green tree frogs hopping from pond to deck.  And feral pigs, although the gunshots we heard early most mornings I suspect may have put paid to those piggies.   And watch out for koalas and bright parrots.  Oh, and the large black spiders which crawled into our luggage whilst we were there.   Luckily most of the local crocodiles seem to be quickly caught and sent to the nearby croc farm.   I have had this question a lot though 'Can crocodiles eat people?  Why?  Will they eat me?  Why not?'.


(little bird at our house) 



(A koala doing what koalas do best: snoozing)

(this is the only breeding pair of jabirus in the world. They spent 2 years courting and another 2 looking for the right place to nest.  Just like human beings.) 

Sustenance:  I only have one rule about holidays, and that is, I do not want to cook breakfast lunch and dinner.  Much as I love cooking, that is just too much standing around in the kitchen for me.  For this holiday, we had lunch every day in Port Douglas (mostly here and here).   

Crazy self discipline idea:   do you go on holidays full of good intentions like exercising in inappropriate locations, or not drinking alcohol, or going fat free?  I do.  And that usually lasts about 3 days.   As I have spent most of the last 6 months feeling hungover from the lovely chemo side effects, drinking has not been high on the agenda.   How nice it was on this holiday to enjoy wine.    Oh, and should I mention we had dessert every single day for lunch? With no guilt, no regrets and no second thoughts.   Otherwise what is the point?


 (pistachio kulfi with silver leaf and watermelon salad) 

(dragonfruit ice cream (how amazing is the colour) and creme caramel. Very 1970's!)

(at our fourth meal at this restaurant they supplied the children's honeycomb ice cream in an ice and rose petal bowl instead of a 'normal' bowl. )

Outcome: for some reason it seems as if the children always take some great step on holidays. Is that just because I am paying more attention, or because they relax into it?  The guilty mother in me would say this is because I am around the whole time, not working and not distracted with life.  But I think it is more that they have time to work on things with lots of pushy parental encouragement.   This time round, our son became independent in the water (with a foam noodle of course) and our daughter finally got the hang of diving (as opposed to belly flopping).   


Now it's back to the real world. 

Monday, July 4, 2011

43 Books

Following my last post where I mentioned the books I read during surgery and chemo, a number of people asked me (a) what I read and (b) how I found the time.

The answer to (b) is that when you spend months hooked up to intravenous poison every Monday morning for 4 or so hours, you suddenly have quite a lot of time for reading.


(a bit of our library)

And the answer to (a) is below where I list my 43 books. 

As I have said before, I found reading a bit challenging this year.  I did not want to read anything life changing which would later remind me of where I was when I read it. 

I also found it quite helpful to read about people battling life and death in an escapist sense because it made me feel that they were in more trouble than me (the same reason I have watched a lot of House this year.  They have what disease?   Just made me feel better that I had simple straightforward cancer).  

And also I did occasionally feel pretty brain dead and something simple and soft was just the answer. 




I have to mention the role of my Kindle in all this.  Whilst I love to hold a real book in my hot little hands, the Kindle has so many advantages.  Two in particular I mention: the first is that if you are stuck somewhere and don't feel like reading what you have, you can in 30 seconds download another book.  The second is cost.  On Kindle, most paperbacks are $5 to $7, old classics are free, and even new ones are about $11.  Compared to a shop price of $29 for a new paperback that is a major saving and explains why I could do crazy things like read the balance of the Lee Child oeuvre.  ( I bet not many people put 'Lee Child' and 'oeuvre' in the same sentence). 

So, fully categorised and colour coded, here is the list.   

This post is dedicated to Anton, the lovely silver haired man from the country I met in the oncology suite who reads military history and was always interested in what I was reading.  I hope you are doing okay.  


A mixed bag of fiction

Caleb's Crossing by Geraldine Brooks
Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel
One Day by David Nicholls
Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert
The Book Thief by Marcus Zusak 
The Flaneur by Edmund White
When God was a Rabbit by Sarah Winman (thanks Simone xo)

US loner ex military cop adventures

Gone Tomorrow by Lee Child
The Visitor by Lee Child
Without Fail by Lee Child
Tripwire by Lee Child
Bad Luck and Trouble by Lee Child
Persuader by Lee Child

I am addicted to Jack Reacher and his slightly improbable but impeccably plotted adventures in the US heartland. 

Self Help and Cancer

The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle  (first and last self help book I will ever try to read)
C: Because Cowards get Cancer too by John Diamond
Crazy Sexy Cancer by Kris Carr
The C Word by Lisa Lynch

A classic fast paced WW2 thriller

Eye of the Needle by Ken Follett
(I also read 'A Dangerous Fortune', epic banking family revenge saga set in late 1800s London).  

Soppy and Likely to Make You Lose Respect for Me


A Special Relationship by Douglas Kennedy
Temptation by Douglas Kennedy 
State of the Union by Douglas Kennedy
The Moment by Douglas Kennedy (this is his latest book about a doomed romance set in a 1980s separated Berlin.  I don't know about you but I fully loathed the main character by the end of this story - whatever you do don't read this book)
A Change in Altitude by Anita Shreve (always love her work although her earlier stuff is superior I think)


Venetian Detective

Wilful Behaviour by Donna Leon

2 new US legal thrillers

Innocent by Scott Turow (this is a sequel to Presumed Innocent and is quite brilliant.  His writing is so calm and powerful, and this is a marvellous depiction of a marriage in decay as well). 
The Confession by John Grisham

Adventure for 12 year old girls
 (and me)

What Katy Did by Susan Coolidge
Night birds on Nantucket by Joan Aiken
The Witch of Clatteringshaws by Joan Aiken
Midwinter Nightingale by Joan Aiken
Mandy by Julie Andrews (actually I read this to my daughter but it still counts)

You may think this is a bit odd but proper children's literature can be read by adults, I think.  And I may have been regressing just a bit in hospital, so I went on a bit of a Joan Aiken splurge.  These books are amazing, they feature a little Cockney adventuress, Dido Twite and are set in an alternate history in the 1600s and feature a range of kinds (Good King James III and in Midwinter Nightingale a dying King Richard and a baron-werewolf bent on taking over the throne).   You can read about Joan Aiken here. 

Cornish and Scottish Bohemia


Wild Mountain Thyme by Rosamund Pilcher
Coming Home by Rosamund Pilcher
Day of the Storm by Rosamund Pilcher
September by Rosamund Pilcher
Winter Solstice by Rosamund Pilcher


I read The Shell Seekers 20 years ago and it is one of my favourite books ever.  I bought lots of her lesser works on Kindle, some of which are okay, especially Coming Home which is an absorbing story set in Cornwall and London and Malaysia over the 1930s and in WW2.  

Mixture of Non Fiction

At Home by Bill Bryson
Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell 
The Big Short by Michael Lewis 
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua
Love Wisdom and Motherhood by Jessica Rowe
Is there a Nutmeg in the House? by Elizabeth David 
Smile or Die by Barbara Ehrenreich

Two Rock and Roll Tales

Just Kids by Patti Smith
Life by Keith Richards (still reading this one)

Code

One of my favourite books - have read several times now
Not their best work 
Unfinished
Need to be in the right mood for this 
If you want to read something completely different...?






Finally, a very big thank you to Simone from Bottom of the Ironing Basket.  You see, I won her incredibly generous 500th post giveaway of 16 yes 16 books and they have been arriving in my office in twos and threes over the last couple of weeks.  Here are some of them.   Thank you very much lovely S.  xo 

Monday, June 27, 2011

End of Chemo Cake

I finished chemo last Monday.

When the nurses pointed this out to me, I frowned and said, yes but it is not my last intravenous infusion, because I will be turning up here every 3 weeks for 9 months to have Herceptin.


It was then I realised that my practical side was overwhelming the side of me that should have been saying HOORAY and THANK GOD that I have, six months to the day since my surgery, finished this nightmare experience.  Of course I realise that it is never really over.   But 'active treatment' as they call it, is now at an end.

In the last half year I have:
  • gained a new and deep respect for the medical professionals in Melbourne.
  • thought a lot about life and death.
  • lost all my hair, most of my eyebrows and some of my eyelashes and gained my freckles back.
  • read 43 books.
  • confronted head on my very worst fear: getting cancer young. 
  • spent a lot of time watching the children play and realised how much I still have to teach them. 
  • continued to work at about half capacity which has been frustrating but well worth it. 
  • felt so much gratitude for the support and wishes of family, friends, strangers, blog friends, acquaintances, the guy in the coffee shop, the stray business person I meet with who remarks on my 'lovely haircut', the mail man, the lovely girl in our local toyshop, the woman at Mecca Cosmetica, people in the oncology suite, the carpark man, the friend I haven't seen for 7 years who lives in Hong Kong who sent me the sweetest email last week and on it goes. 
So this weekend I:

* Baked a cake to celebrate:




Recipe from Delicious, a magazine which has really grown on me. So much more down to earth than Gourmet Traveller or Donna Hay.    It has cornflour in it and so is very very light and fluffy.

* Bought this book online (really cannot believe how cheap Book Depository is):






I wrote about Nigel Slater's memoir here. I have a small crush on this man.  I would love to cook for him.

* Made a 6 point plan for the next 6 months (more on that soon).

* Bought a painting. Yes it's dark and moody and that is why I love it.  By the Tasmanian Turner.   (It is of Bass Strait). 




* Picked some of these for floating in vases.  It really annoys me the way camellias don't survive in vases on their own.  We don't have as many picking flowers in our garden as I would like.

This to me looks very like the Chanel camellia...


* Ate some macaroons which I buy at La Belle Miette 

In case you were wondering these flavours are strawberry and vanilla and violet and blueberry.  He also does an amazing Pimms and pomegranate version.


Isn't life fantastic?  So much to enjoy.  



Monday, June 6, 2011

Escaping Cancer Island

I have had some unusual dreams this year.  It is amazing how one's subconscious takes what is going on in the conscious world and twists and twirls a dream around it.  

So, at the risk of turning into a boring dinner party guest who bangs on about her dreams, I am going to share a couple here.   


(extremely overpriced lily which graced the table last week. I know they are funereal but I love them)

I have always thought recurrent dreams are the most interesting.  They must speak of something deep deep inside. 

My most frequent recurrent dreams since about the age of 20 have been:   (1) waking up on the morning of a university exam and realising I have not done any study or preparation for it  at all (actually that part was true in the case of Ancient French) or (2) running really hard but getting nowhere (often with not enough clothes on).


(frangipani lifted from a tree in the street on our last holiday in central New South Wales)

My new recurrent dreams are (1) giving some very dry legal presentation but I have forgotten my wig so I am with my 'No Hair' as my son calls it in front of 50 unimpressed strangers (2) dreams where I think I am wearing my wig at a meeting but realise at the end that I wasn't and everyone was being very polite and not saying anything (3) the Dr Suess Wig Dream where I think I am wearing a wig but it's the wrong wig and I take it off, then another, then another and underneath them all is the 'right' wig.  

And I had a very memorable epic dream which seemed to go for hours and hours where I was on an island and all the power went out and people were desperately trying to get off because they knew if they got stuck on the island that they would die and all the boats had left and all that was available were charter planes and they were all taken by the old people with brown leathery skins wearing lots of gold jewelry and pastel nylon tracksuits and I was crying at the airline desk saying I don't care what it costs, I will pay anything and do anything to get off this island.    (I can interpret this - the money reference is the fact that this cancer thing is costing a fortune and the older people thing I think relates to the fact that with a couple of exceptions, when I have my chemo I am the youngest person in the oncology suite by at least 15 years.   And I would be lying if I said I didn't feel trapped, if not by the diagnosis then definitely by the endless treatment.)


(my mother's herb pots.  And she didn't need Martha Stewart to tell her to do it this way).

And so it is that I don't want anything to remind me of this time. When it is all over I don't want to listen to a song and think 'Oh yes that is what I listened to when I was having chemo'.   Kind of doesn't have the same nostalgic ring to it as 'Oh yes that was the song I listened to a lot when I first fell in love'.    Which means that I have stayed away from music largely except classical.  

And equally, with books, I don't want to think 'Oh that is the book I read when I was in hospital', or 'that is the book I used to read whilst waiting in the oncology suite'.  So I am reading books I have read before, or books which involve such a sheer form of escapism I will never remember them.    More on those another time.  


(last year's daphne.  This year's lot is just coming into bud.)

It surprises me that some friends of mine who have been through cancer and chemotherapy can't remember the names of the particular chemo they had.  The detail obsessive in me thinks 'how can they possibly not remember something that important?'. But then I realise that they have forced it out of their mind.  They don't want to remember.  They don't want that recall.  

I can't blank out my recall.  And in the typical manner of a lawyer, I need to read as much as I can about new experiences.   I have already mentioned that the Internet can be dangerous.   And books too.  But I have done a bit of cancer book reading. Some has been upsetting, some badly written, others moving beyond words.  I am a bit picky with my cancer books.  Any book that recommends that I 'find my special place' and 'sit there quietly'  gets thrown across the room pretty quick smart. 

Here are the three of the best  writings which I have dipped into whilst on Cancer Island.   And you may say: how are they relevant to me? But I say - they are all well written, and -  ultimately -  about life, not death.  Because that is what these experiences do teach us - to respect and value life and not to worry about its end. 





I cannot recommend this book highly enough. My oncologist suggested it to me, as he worked at the Royal Marsden in London when John Diamond was being treated there.  Believe it or not, on Cancer Island there are good cancers and bad cancers.   I think John Diamond had a bad one: throat cancer which had spread to his tongue and lymph nodes.    

John Diamond was a journalist and broadcaster, perhaps better known for being married to Nigella Lawson.   His 'cancer journey' was pretty horrendous from start to finish but he kept his perspective, and writes so clearly about  his experience that it moved me deeply.   

Diamond (like me) hated being described as fighting a 'battle' or being 'brave' and writes of his desire to whinge, moan and just give up. He also writes hilariously of the policy of 'partial disclosure' most oncologists follow, meaning that they just give you enough information progressively to be going on with, not the whole box and dice (because that would be just too overwhelming). 





This book only peripherally touches on cancer in one chapter when it looks at the 'positive thinking' mantra which plagues so many with serious illness (as in, if you think positive you will be cured, when in fact that has not been proved to be the case) but otherwise reviews the history of positive thinking in the US and forensically dissects the downside of such an approach.   I am all for being optimistic but to me the idea that thinking positively can bring me money, fame or good health for ever is ludicrous.   She also writes scathingly of the infantilisation of breast cancer, and in reference to the teddy bear she was given as part of a support group care package asks if men with prostate cancer are given Matchbox toy cars? 

And finally, I have been avidly reading this man's series of articles published by Vanity Fair:




Like or loathe Christopher Hitchens you would not wish Stage IV oesophagal cancer on your worst enemy.  And he has finally lost his voice, and writes brilliantly and movingly of the pain this causes him, and the importance of being able to voice one's thoughts here. 

I read just a day or so ago that Hitchens has won an award for his cancer writings.  Very well deserved.  I so feel for him.  





Weird chemo side effect no 467:  bye bye big toe nails, baby bye bye.  Yes it's true. I can cope with this I think as I lost one when I dropped a tray on my toe on New Year's Day 2000.   But I wasn't expecting it. Isn't life unpredictable? 



Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Ice Palaces and Nicoise Salad

Whilst I loathe any family member being away from me, I have to confess that if my husband is away for work, I get just a tiny bit excited about a night at home alone.   It is not that I can't do what I want with him around but I do love the pottering around in silence.  Eating by candlelight by myself. Listening to the sound of the rain if it comes.  Watching a little bit of rubbish television whilst cooking dinner.   Curling up on the couch with Pepper the cat purring happily on my lap.   

He is a non tuna or salmon eater (unless raw), so as if spiting him, I always cook myself some salmon or tuna for dinner.

Tonight, here it is, a tuna nicoise salady thing.  




This is very easy.   So easy it does not even require a recipe but know this:  for perfectly cooked tuna and salmon, put a bit of oil on, pop on a tray, put in a cold oven and turn to 120 degrees. It will be cooked to perfectly medium rare in 25 minutes.  

Tomorrow night will be a salmony rice thing. 

And then, it is important to watch something he wouldn't be interested in watching for the millionth time.  Tonight it is:


I would love to have wallpaper in this image -  I love the combination of yellow with the birch trees.  It still looks modern all these years later.    The truth is I will not get through the whole film in one night.  I am a bit tired at the moment for that.  But even half is better than nothing. 

And of course it has one of my all time favourite scenes:



Did you know this ice covered house was filmed in the heat in Spain? It is not snow at all but white marble dust.  



It's pretty cold here at the moment, and in fact I have a fur hat just like Julie Christie's.  It is made of possum fur though (I bought it in New Zealand where the enlightened government allows the use of possum fur in clothes) not mink or whatever hers is and so is more ethically acceptable.

And of course, I pyjama up, with face mask on.  At the moment, it is this: 

This stuff is brilliant.  6 sachets for $30, and I use only half a sachet at a time.   Such great value and it gives my skin that tingling feeling which is compulsory if you want to feel it is doing any good.  

Weird Chemo Side Effect No 5: my hair is growing back.  Again.  This time, am not counting on it.  I just ignore the way it looks and tell myself I will worry about it in July.  Oh and I have little pins and needles in my fingertips. This is called neuropathy and is quite normal. In fact my oncologist said it is good if I have it it means I am responding to chemo.     Sometimes I think he says things just to cheer me up.  I dread to think what he must say to his really sad patients.     Mostly we seem to shoot the breeze about books and the latest Herceptin research coming out of New York.  I find it hard to talk about myself all the time.   Side effects and symptoms.  So boring and repetitive. I feel like I am complaining.  Weird but there you have it.    

Monday, May 16, 2011

Good Things Autumn 2011: Burmese Statues and Gwyneth Paltrow

The little things are infinitely the most important (Arthur Conan Doyle). 

In the face of bone aching fatigue last week, I have found lots of pleasure in tiny achievements.



Like this embroidered cushion I found at Safari.  In the background is my fiddle leaf fig tree, which almost died when I was in hospital in January because no one thought to give it the thimble full of water it needs to survive each week. I am slowly nursing it back to health but it is still too straggly.  Such a shame because it had a beautiful full shape when I first bought it.  


Pepper the Burmese cat managed to knock over this (Burmese!) statue we have in the front hall.  Of course the Burmese army had already taken care of her head, feet and arms (the statue I mean not the cat).   But her leg broke in two. I fixed it with Kwik Grip or something equally unmentionable.  I know that is not the correct way to mend supposedly ancient Asian artefacts but there you have it.  You can barely see the mend line. 


I don't mind being called Princess Jane by my daughter.  Note the little copyright symbol. It is not easy to explain the concept of copyright to an 8 year old but I think we got there.   And now her intellectual property is protected!



Oh Scanlan & Theodore how I love thee.  And your grey cardigans.  No I don't need another to add to the collection.  But it called my name and its siren song was answered.


Australian candle with Liberty-esque wrapping.   It's true I bought it mostly for the presentation.  Very superficial I know.  It smells nice but I still think Americans (think Tocca, Voluspa) make the best candles. 


Can we talk about Gwyneth?  I almost felt a bit ashamed buying this book and my husband teased me for a good five minutes.   I am completely absolutely anti celebrity chefs. I don't even watch Master Chef which is practically a crime in Australia.  I have no celebrity chef books. I loathe Gordon Ramsay.  I liked Nigella when she was thin and wrote for UK Vogue in the early 1990s.   I still love her books but only because I was an early adopter and she writes so well.

And Gwyneth herself is so multi talented, with her unusually named children, not very good interior design taste (at least that is what I think - check out these pics of her NY apartment), very nice Hampton's kitchen, okay singing voice, macrobiotic passions, kind of saccharine website and wardrobe to die for.  She's so earnest.   And that can be annoying.

But this book really resonated with me.    There are a few reasons for this. 


First, she speaks authentically of her love for her father (who died several years ago from complications of throat cancer) and her naive belief that he could be cured if he changed his diet.  (As an aside I have thought many times since my diagnosis whether my diet could be a cause. I think I eat pretty really well but according to the evil Internet breast cancer can be caused by all kinds of things ranging from milk to coffee.  It is of course so natural to blame yourself for these things (was it stress? was it the pollution from the street? what about deodorant? Could that be the cause?) and diet is always high up the list.)  Her father taught her to love to cook and eat.  He loved American foods: burgers, pancakes, hotdogs et al, and some of his recipes find their way into the book.  

Second, she really wants her children to eat well, cook with her, and to share magical times around the table.  This too is what I want for my children.  And I am at the stage where my son won't eat green or slightly green tinged things and my daughter won't eat most butter or dairy products.  So I am desperate to cook them things they will eat with enthusiasm.  And this notion of hiding the good items in what you cook for children is weird.   I want them to know what they are eating and come to love it naturally. 

Third, this book made me want to cook and eat.   Surely there can be no higher recommendation? These days of course we can get any recipe we want for free.  So why buy a cookbook?  I look for a way of viewing cooking which I can relate to.  Presumably if you enjoy cooking one or two of a favourite cookbook writer's recipes, you will enjoy cooking more.  That is why our Marcella Hazan cookbooks are falling apart through overuse.



Over the weekend I cooked the following from this book: kale crisps, cheesy stuffed burgers, duck burgers, macaroni cheese (which she makes with mascarpone and Parmesan), oatmeal and raisin cookies (no butter and no eggs), white bean soup with cheesey croutons, zucchini with pasta and berries with caramelised cream.   All the recipes worked well, and the children loved them all.



This is not a macrobiotic book by any means. There is a lot of cheese and dairy and eggs and pancakes.  There are also some nice zen meals like soba noodles and savoury rice bowl. 

Finally, I have ticked a few book purchases off the to-do list.



Two books for my husband's birthday which always must be history although unfortunately Mr Fitzsimons is a journalist which may make the history a bit 'chatty and accessible' which my husband does not like at all.   Oh well.

And the new Geraldine Brooks book set in Martha's Vineyard in the 1660s.  If you have not already, please read her earlier books - Year of Wonders (set in plague torn England) and March (Dr March from Little Women's experiences in the Civil War) are both completely brilliant. 


And truly finally, some toast with avocado, fetta, mint and olive oil has been giving me much comfort lately.

I am so boring that I realise as typing this that I have already done an avocado on toast post.  But I love it so much. 

In fact I think I could easily find enough posts to run a 'Things on Toast' blog for a good couple of years (other ideas for alternative blogs - Dollshouses (but that might attract some weirdos) or Celebrities with No Interior Design Taste).

Weird Chemo Side Effect No 4: my eyebrows are definitely thinning out. I hope to hold on to them for the next 6 weeks.  I have probably in the past said something stupid like I will stay in my bedroom for the duration if I lose my eyebrows.  However, now it is potentially happening, I just don't care.  On the bright side, it makes me look just that little bit more like Gwyneth. 
Related Posts with Thumbnails