Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Oh Buenos Aires, you.

OMGYOUGUYS. I have too much content today. I have FOUR DAYS of Buenos Aires to cover. This will be impossible - there is not enough coffee in the world, and I can feel the sun on my ankles - it is a delightful burning - and also it is only a matter of minutes until the Kitty Patrol comes and sits on my computer. Oreo and Melita are the Holiday Enforcers, the Vacation Guard, and if there is one thing they will not stand for, it is the presence of a laptop on a sunny balcony when you clearly  have two hands capable of more than tapping away at a keyboard:

Like rubbing tummies.

So for now, in this brief window, I will attempt - perhaps in vain - to at least cover the weekend. Here we go!

First, let us start with our friends who are hosting us, Palermo-style. This is them plus their Lily-Allen sister, Pia:

Meet Vik and Pablo. They are artists, influencers, and socialites to the nth degree (more on this soon). They are also warm and funny, and they know EVERYTHING. We've loved them since we met in London many moons ago. I should add that Vik, in addition to being a famous illustrator, is also a singer. We will also see this in action soon.

This is their shop, Monoblock. They have two of these in Buenos Aires - one in Palermo, and one in the Galeria Liceo, which is pictured below. Everything in their shop they have produced in collaboration with local artists (and one from Londres, woot!). It is awesome: 

Sidebar: can I tell you how weird it is to celebrate Christmas when it's a million degrees outside? There we are, walking down the streets, sweating and dusty and wondering where we can find a lemonade, and there are baubles and reindeers and glitz in all the shop windows. Feliz Navidad? YOU ARE MOCKING ME.

Back to Monoblock! Remember the Lily Allen Sister? She is a chef and this is her deli, snugged away in a courtyard behind the shop and full of tattooed hipsters. Her food is gorgeous, leading me to believe that between her and her sister, there is a bit too much total talent for one family. But that's why I am not in charge. 

You want to go to here:

After lunch, Alan and I finally quit stalking our hosts (me, pawing Vik's hair, murmuring nonsense) and headed to La Recoleta Cemetery. Youguys. You know my history with cemeteries: they do not want me in them because I Know What's Going On. For the most part I am happy to oblige, but sometimes, rules must be broken. I will tell you now, though - cue foreboding music here - just because I am willing to compromise, doesn't mean the graveyard will. Our understanding is in place for a reason, and this will become apparent very soon.

But first, let's start off when things are good and happy and I am merrily skipping about the mausoleums. Aren't they stunning? Aren't they spooky and magical? *click click snap snap* I wonder where Eva Peron's is? I hope these pictures capture the atmosphere. Why is it that cemeteries always look gloomy? Can the sun not penetrate here? --Ooh! Look at that angel statue! *click click snap snap*

Then, we turn down one of the teeny tiny labyrinth-like paths, and:

I see this for the omen it is - because Not My First Graveyard - and turned us down a different path to get away from his Curse. And am immediately confronted with this sky:


I turn and look back at him.

In that half-moment when my back was turned, the sky grew to this:

STOP IT, KITTY! You are summoning the overlords! 



I lingered long enough to photograph This Graveyard's Wrath - because some people never learn - and that is when THE HAIL BEGAN.

An angel dispensing doom like so much salt over fried potatoes.

This was the gate leading out. It took me years to reach it. 

The graveyard clearly won. We had to take refuge in a cafe across the road, attempting to dry off with the warm comfort of Malbec, as the rain lashed the windows, still trying to get at us. When at last we could move again, I got close enough to shoot this church and then got out of there as fast as I could. I knew my place.

This is clearly not it.

Then to Floreria Atlantico! This is one of those super-hip cocktail bars that looks like a flower shop on street level because So Secret but then they open the magic door and you go underground and ooh la la So Dark and Sexy and Look at That Typeface and This Cocktail Menu is Written in More Than One Foreign Language and I Don't Care What It Is, I Want to Drink It and Is That Eucalyptus Infusing in That Bottle? 

In short: exactly right.
I don't know about you, but the more steps I have to take for my negroni, the better it tastes.

And then dinner, wherein we take a full 180 from the sophistication of Floreria and head to El Cuartito. It is the whole package: flourescent lighting, full of locals, and home of the squidgiest gooeyiest pizza you have ever put in your face. Also, that guy:

My new favourite pizza is the one on the bottom left - yes, I was so hungry I took a bite before I photographed it, don't judge me - it's called Fugazzetta, and it's basically crap-tons of mozzarella and onions. At El Cuartito, they also stuff the crust and add cream cheese. I WILL TAKE IT ALL, PLEASE.

And Oreo just sat on my arm. Apparently I have been given enough time. I got Saturday done, though! Progress!

I will now leave you with the view from our roof terrace - pictures of rooftop asado coming soon! - and take my leave. Today is San Telmo Day! 

Big hugs and lots of love,

Tuesday, December 9, 2014

On brain pickings, high art, and much much lower neurosis

Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. - Anne Lamott

OMGYOUGUYS. Have you discovered Brain Pickings yet? If you have, don't judge me, I'm a little late to the game on this one. (And I owe it to Kyle that I came across it at all.) Don't think for a second of following that link unless you're prepared to lose the next hour(s) of your life, because each link leads to ten more interesting links, and those to ten more, and next thing you know, the sun's gone down, you're fumbling for your glasses, and you feel a strange urge to go to a poetry reading and hug people.

My latest foray into BP was when I followed a link to Anne Lamott on Grief, which then led me to an article on how we keep ourselves small by people-pleasing, and then WHAM, there's Jorge Luis on writing, F. Scott on love stories, and Dani Shapiro on the Creative Life. It's all just too much, youguys. Get in there. When you're done, you'll want to create something wonderful. Or messy. Or anything. Because as Neil Gaiman will tell you, it doesn't matter, just do it.

I really like this stuff because while I'm not a producer of art, I really love people who are. I find what they do impossibly impossible.

Speaking of Jorge and Vik, Argentina is fast approaching! FRIDAY, youguys. That's how fast. FRIDAY. That is, like, three days from now. I have about a book's worth of google maps and flight confirmations and driving instructions and STILL I have the sneaking sensation that I am forgetting something. I lie in bed at night, mentally packing my bag. Virtual sandals, check. Virtual passport, check. Virtual camera--CAMERA! Tripod! BATTERY CHARGER! Where is the last place I saw the battery charger?? The living room socket behind the speaker?? WHERE IS THAT THING! WRITEITDOWNSOMEWHEREBEFOREIFORGET! I lunge for Evernote in the dark hours, tip-tapping away at a thousand lists, syncing and re-syncing, determined to start packing, like, yesterday.  I'll be so exhausted by the time I arrive, I'll probably sleep through the entire holiday.


Big hugs and lots of love,

Thursday, December 4, 2014

On hot sauce, yet more veg, and what are you reading?

Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life. - Terry Pratchett

OMGYOUGUYS. I just made hot sauce with all those chilis I had to pluck from my dead chili plants. Well, I *think* I made hot sauce. I whacked them all into a pot with some vinegar and garlic and salt and in about half an hour I'm going to whizz it up and hope for the best. I didn't even bother deseeding them because who has got that kind of TIME and also what's the worst that can happen? It sets my stomach on fire? LET'S DO THIS CHILI THROW-DOWN.

Speaking of food, look at this gargantuan beetroot I got in this week's veg box. Isn't this ABSURD? I can barely palm it, which is a far cry from the ping-pongs I usually get:
Don't even get me started on the carrot. I almost photographed that instead, but I felt mildly uncomfortable just HOLDing it. 

And how is this for authentic? I actually washed off most of the dirt before taking this photo. I swear they put dirt IN the box, just to make me dig for my vegetables. Like an added bonus, a Look! You're a Farmer! experience, as you root around with your trowel, hands growing rough, hoping for a bountiful harvest.
My beets and carrots were pretty bountiful, alright. 

And now we've got the brussels sprouts. SOMEONE. TELL ME WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THESE BRUSSELS SPROUTS. I was going to make this flatbread pizza to get away from my usual method of FRYWITHBACONBACONBACON but if anybody has any better ideas, let me know. There are enough here to last me a MONTH.
Stop looking so innocent and baby-like. I know what you're about.

In other good news, NPR's Book Concierge for 2014 is out! I can't even handle it. There are so many books in there I want to eat. I love stuff like this, because my usual method of looking for books is either finding out what Cassandra's reading, or going to the library and hoping they've got ANYthing published after 1978. Speaking of, I was there yesterday getting some travel guides to Argentina, and since  'ANG' follows 'ARG' and my library has an impeccable cataloguing system, this book was right there. I couldn't resist it, immediately dropping all the Time Out Buenos Aires Guides that I knew I wouldn't read anyway. Any book involving prostitution and drugs in San Francisco is a day's win!
Some things just make you nostalgic.

Now if you'll excuse me, I clearly have a busy day ahead. Plus tonight is the Annual Dinner for the British Guild of Beer Writers* and it's supposed to be QUITE the fancy pants affair. I have even heard mention of SPARKLES, and that from the MEN. I've got to get to work - these sweatpants aren't going to bedazzle themselves!

Big hugs and lots of love,

*Of COURSE I'm in the guild! Look at all this beer I blog about! I'm also a Young Furniture Maker in the Worshipful Company of Furniture Makers, because OBVIOUSLY.

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

On crafts, the winter sky, and fairy wings

Is my paranoia getting completely out of hand, or are you mongoloids really talking about me? - John Kennedy Toole

OMGYOUGUYS. So remember how I had the World's Most Anemic Christmas Decorations to put up? Well, GUESS WHAT CAME IN THE MAIL YESTERDAY. This Christmas banner, handmade by the Indomitable Little Wing:
This is exactly the sort of thing I'd look up how to make on Pinterest, eff up within seconds, and end up buying on Etsy.

Sidebar: I was just double-checking this photo for anything embarrassing prior to posting and I have just realised I have the handiwork of another design genius on display: That Wonderful Bowl. You can't tell, but it's WOODEN and steam-bent and then held together by WOVEN CORD. Of course it was made by the brilliant Aya:
I think we're all reaching the same conclusions from this. 

On a semi-related note: Look at the light quality of the above photo, whose brightness was actually amped up with a filter. This was taken mid-morning in an east-facing room. I intentionally didn't photograph the banner last night because I wanted to show it in natural light, forgetting that we're officially approaching the Shortest Day and that is no longer a thing. This is as bright as my brightest room gets; I have the lights on all day now.

The winter sky in London looks like this: it's not gray, it's a wonderful, flat brown, and if it's not raining, the air is just delightfully WET. A tangible, visible mist, impossible to combat with umbrella, hood, or sword:
 And people wonder why I don't leave the house.

So that's today's cheer for you!

Okay, I really should be going. I just saw a quiz on fb asking What Kind of Wings I Have* and while some might say that's just LUDICROUS and GOING A BIT TOO FAR, I think it's safe to say that FINALLY there's a quiz that tells us something valuable and meaningful about ourselves, and now I can finally prove I'm more dragon than fairy. Because #science.

Big hugs and lots of love,

*Totally not kidding.  High-five for #angels and #dreams and #unicornsparkles!

Sunday, November 30, 2014

And that's a wrap!

It is hard to adapt to chaos, but it can be done. - Kurt Vonnegut 

OMGYOUGUYS. MYBLOWRIMO IS FINISHED. I have written every day during the month of November. How about that. I feel like a mother effing CHAMP. It has been fantastic, fulfilling, and exhausting in equal measure, and I can say one thing for sure on the other side: I’m really glad I did it. Sheer desperation on some days caused me to expand in new directions and while some of them were total cheats, some of them were also okay. Now I feel like I can keep this space free from personal expectation and just be IN it, like a weird little room, part gentlemen’s-lounge, part Japanese-cat-cafe, part padded-cell. WELCOME TO MY WORLD.

If you've been reading all month, then ICANTTHANKYOUENOUGH. If you did, you have to leave me a comment below and I will show my appreciation by sending you a personalised doodle. And NO, you don't have a choice, and YES, it may be dirty.

I'll see you next time I come into my little space, and hope you're here with me!

Big hugs and lots of love,

Saturday, November 29, 2014

On Black Friday, Buenos Aires, and Christmas Decorations

I believe in poetry as a way of surviving the emotional chaos, spiritual confusions, and traumatic events that come with being alive. - Gregory Orr 

OMGYOUGUYS. Can we unpack the loaded gun that is Black Friday for a second? I was seeing post after post about the vileness of it yesterday and - since I was scrolling at a pace -  just assumed they were all coming from US friends, because I don't know ANYbody back home who likes the practice, and I've been seeing articles and discourses on the issue for years.

Then I looked more closely. These posts were coming from the UK. You can't even tell I capitalised that, but I did. THE UK. Talk about embarrassing. I mean, I get (while still being disappointed) why it exists in America - everyone has Friday off because of Thanksgiving, and shopping and movies seem to go hand-in-hand - but in Great Britain? Why? It's just a FRIDAY. In the middle of NOWHERE. And now there are viral videos and ugly posts on the topic and everyone is mentally stabbing America because Obviously We Are the Root of All Evil and the whole thing has distressed me to the point that I need poetry to express how I feel. So here is my Black Friday Haiku*:

Black Friday madness
Now USA look like jerks
I need more turkey

Ah. Feeling better now. Kyle's right, poetry IS therapeutic.

On a happier note, today is the day I'm putting up the Christmas decorations! I always do this the day after Thanksgiving, ever since I went shopping with Emma Watson. This year's decorations are MEGA. Check out everything I'm putting up: 

This is gonna take me all day. 

I'm doing an abridged version of Christmas this year for the main reason that we won't actually BE here for much of December, so why lug all the boxes down from the attic for only two short weeks of joyeux noel? That is just SAD. Also, a lot of work, and I'm lazy. But get this: we're going to Argentina! WHAM. Sit back. 

I've been meaning to post on this for a while, but it never quite fit so now I'm just gonna shoehorn it in. We're going to Argentina! For a little over two weeks in December.** Does anyone have any recommendations? Places to eat, drink, shop, stay? We're going to be hitting Buenos Aires, Salta and Cafayate, and Iguazu Falls. Buenos Aires itself is pretty covered since we're staying with our friends Vik and Pablo, The CoolestCouple. in Argentina (RIGHT NOW: check out their awesome business), but the rest we're pretty much going in blind and under-researched so YAY! How ideal is that. TELL ME EVERYTHING YOU KNOW.

Okay, I really should go do some research. Also, take my weekly shower. Also, put up all those decorations. What a day this is turning out to be! Happy Saturday to you all!

Big hugs and lots of love,

*You're lucky it wasn't a limerick.
**Don't rob us. We've totally hired a guard dog who knows how to feed himself and use a gun. 

Friday, November 28, 2014

On friends, pies, and all over London

Once you make a decision, the universe conspires to make it happen. - Emerson

OMGYOUGUYS. I had big plans for the blog today. It was going to be my Thanksgiving Day Special. I was gonna post sexy sexy food photos and all sorts of heart-warming feel-goodery and basically just be THANKSGIVING WHAT!, but at the rate I'm going, we won't be eating until ten so this will just not happen. 

So let's talk about other things that have made me thankful this week! That will be totally close to London-food-photography and crackling fireplaces in an evocative, thought-provoking romantic-holiday-abroad post.

First thing that made me happy this week: running into good friends randomly, turning a Big City into a Small One. This happened yesterday, when I was running around looking for pie and en route stopped at a pub to drop something off. And I kid you not, it doesn't matter how on-the-go you think you are: when you see these faces, your day is derailed in an instant:
I mean, HONESTLY. Just LOOK at them. 

On the left is Pip's dad who was in town visiting and the reason they were out in the middle of the day. He speaks approximately 9.75 languages, which explains so much about Pip. Next we have Rich, who can not only (successfully) do ANY accent, but also communicates with such physical theatrics that he's got to be one of the best story-tellers on the planet, seriously missing a career on stage and screen. Then we have Pip herself: brainiac, cook, humorist, and creative, who has now written four novels, the latest in only two short weeks. And these are my FRIENDS. How is THAT for Thanksgiving.

The second thing I'm thankful for: crazy wonderful London. Look at this sign I ran across while continuing my pie hunt after Pip-n-Rich Fun Times: a local pub celebrating Thanksgiving by being thankful for . . . American things?
I know this list makes ME proud.
Also, the question mark after the NFL. Well played, sir.

And last but not least: I FOUND AN APPLE PIE. It was super gourmet, but totally worth the splurge:
Hey, look! Food photography! And I thought it wouldn't happen. 

Oooh! Timers! It's Go Time! I hope you have all had an equally lovely week so far, and talk to you tomorrow!

Big hugs and lots of love,

Thursday, November 27, 2014

It's Thanksgiving!

My wealth is not possession but enjoyment.  - Henry David Thoreau

OMGYOUGUYS. HAPPY THANKSGIVING! I love Thanksgiving too much. All the food, all the warmth, all the gratitude consciousness . . . it is a wonderful thing.  I won't be celebrating until tomorrow, but let me tell you, when Roast Death Chicken goes in and that veg is prepped, there will a celeBRATion. I may even turn on Netflix Fireplace episode 2. That's how effing atmospheric it's going to get.

I hope you all enjoy your day with family and friends and eat turkey until your pants pop and you go into a food coma and get to doze on the couch with football on in the background and it's all full of fuzzy warmth and later when you're eating leftover-turkey-and-cranberry-sauce-sandwiches there are games at the table and so much pie that-- OMG I FORGOT THE PIE. Gotta go.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Get the Smell of Christmas in Your Home!

Youguys, like, how common is food poisoning REALLY? I mean, let's say hypothetically I came downstairs this morning and found that my fridge door had been hanging open all night - that little sliver of orange light in the darkness - do you think it's probably still okay to drink this milk I've got in front of me? And the bird I got to roast for Thanksgiving: it won't kill me, will it, from a few hours at room temperature? I ask because IF THIS HYPOTHETICALLY HAD HAPPENED, I'm totally planning on pretending it didn't because I DON'T WANT TO BUY A NEW BIRD. *chugging milk, furtively shutting door*


Speaking of the holiday season, my mother-in-law Betty gave me the following household tip when I was in Scotland last weekend. Apparently all I have to do is simmer the below on the stove 'to get the smell of Christmas' in my home. Sounds to me like Betty wants me to make mulled wine:
If I must, Betty. If I must.

Sidebar: I once threw a Robbie Burns party and simmered some cinnamon sticks in a pot of water on the stove to make the flat smell good and everybody who came into the house thought I was cooking and oohed and ahhed and I was like, 'Oh, yeah, been slaving all day. Cinnamon stick?'

I should really throw more parties.

And last but not least: I'm in the home stretch with my manuscript! 
Big hugs and lots of love,

*What better thing to be thankful for than a healthy bout of food poisoning to lose those holiday pounds! 

Tuesday, November 25, 2014

Plastic kills, Mom.

Youguys, This Is The Day. The day I prove what proofreading stuff I'm made of. The day I am going to read for twelve straight hours and YEAH, I JUST GOT PRESCRIBED GLASSES, WHAT'S YOUR POINT.

I am going to leave you with Happy Tidbits today in lieu of a proper post. I hope this is cool. If not, GET YOUR OWN BLOG.

Tidbit One, a snippet of a greater story: my sister has blogged about the differences in my nieces, and while the post in its entirety is great, those differences can really be summed up with this single interaction:
The Younger One: [trying to eat a candy cane without taking off the wrapper]
The Older One, alerting my sister: Plastic kills, Mom.

Tidbit Two: Hedgehogs Muffins:


Tidbit Three, from my favourite tumblr. Captions theirs:



The internet wins again! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got brain cells to fry.

Big hugs and lots of love,

Monday, November 24, 2014

A word after a word after a word is power. - Margaret Atwood

I think it's safe to say Margaret Atwood has never read my blog.

Youguys, it is officially Deadline Week. My last manuscript is due at the end of this week and because of the wonderful wedding-weekend I just had, I am approximately two days behind schedule. This means I have to make the next three days look like five days. Luckily I can bend space and time so this shouldn't be a problem, but here's what will not be happening this week as a result:

Huffpo'ing, buzzfeeding, funny-or-dying, or jezebelling.
Making homemade hot sauce with the millions of chilis from my recently-deceased chili plants.
Getting dressed.
Acting anything like a normal human.

You may notice blogging is not on this list. Because darnit, this is MYBLOWRIMO and I am going to finish what I started. Though I'm not saying it's gonna be good, or that we're going to be wrapping it up on a high note.

Hey, look! A picture!

When in doubt, throw in a picture of a cathedral. People will think you're classy.

Okay, it is officially Go Time. Wish me luck!

Big hugs and lots of love,

Sunday, November 23, 2014

On weddings, boathouses, and yet more graveyards

A purpose of human life, no matter who is controlling it, is to love whoever is around to be loved. - Kurt Vonnegut

HOLYCOWYOUGUYS. Can we talk about yesterday's wedding for a minute? Only a minute. I can't imagine this would be interesting to anybody who wasn't there.*

First, the bride:
RIGHT! Meet Anne: famous for ball-busting, straight-talking, and having legs a mile long. Ugh.

Second, the weather. Scotland in the autumn is riDICulous:
It's honestly enough to turn your stomach.

Third, Glasgow Cathedral:
For the best Gothic ceremony a marriage can buy. Goats optional.

This morning we took a walk to the Loch Lomond boathouse because the air was crisp and clear and also we gained twenty pounds after eating for five hours straight last night and also they had a little restaurant serving coffee and also, how could you resist this?:
Motto: Making People Punch Themselves in the Face Since 1968.

It turns out half the London crew had the same idea. It's like we're all friends for a reason. Behold, the Ladies of Sporting Hackney**:
 This isn't all of them, of course. The others were no doubt in more sensible places, like bed. This is Maria the Intellect, Marie the Edge, and Louise the Style. Just wait until you meet the Comedy, the Party, and the Class***.

It's how we roll.

After we got back to Barrhead, we took a walk to visit Alan's aunt and uncle and had to pass a graveyard to get there and I kid you not:
THIS ROLLED RIGHT IN. IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DAY. It's like they know I know. 

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find a cross made of garlic. Our trip back to London isn't going to protect itself. 

Big hugs and lots of love,

*I say this only because I would totally tune out anybody who wanted to tell me a wedding story. Please. Start with the traffic you encountered on the way there. I've got all day.

**Sporting Hackney: the London football team that binds our group like so much spilled whisky on a parquet dance floor.  

***This is you, Rachael. Once you're in, you can never get out.

Saturday, November 22, 2014

It is our responsibilities, not ourselves, that we should take seriously. - Peter Ustinov

Do you guys know the number one google search that directs people to my blog? It's the source of a TON of traffic. An ALARMING ton, because it's - are you ready for this? - ZOO PORN. I KNOW. I don't even know WHAT* those people are hoping to find, but imagine how disappointed they must be when they arrive on this post and there's only, like, some post-coital zebras smoking cigarettes.

In other news, look what we found sitting on the bed when we landed at Frank and Betty's yesterday: these cookbooks from Alan's sister Marie! They're a housewarming gift for the French house because MARIE KNOWS.** They fill me with warm fuzzies because it is exactly these sorts of additions that will turn it from a nice getaway into a real home-away-from-home. Check this out:

Do you love Floyd as much as I do? I'm already glad I have this, because I never knew one should do their cooking in a tux in France and I could have really embarrassed myself. 

Okay, off we go! A wedding in three hours and this bathrobe is going to look ridiculous if I don't at least add a flower.

Big hugs and lots of love,

*I mean, I can guess, but I DON'T WANT TO.
**The best places for heart-stabbing.

Friday, November 21, 2014

On Glasgow, an impending wedding, and a lazy Friday night

Y'all. I am so sleepy right now. This is why I should only blog at six in the morning; anytime after two and I am as functional as a roly-poly under the prodding finger of a six year old.

Guess what! We're in Glasgow right now. We came up for a wedding, with the added bonus of catching family. It promises to be a beautiful affair: Glasgow Cathedral followed by Cameron House on Loch Lomond. It also promises to be wicked fun: the groom's bringing the Irish, the bride's bringing the Scottish, and the London crowd's bringing the crazy. I'm gonna take loads of photos. (Or none. It's tough to say. Don't PRESSURE me, Sharona!)

Speaking of, here are some pictures from Glasgow today!

We met Alan's favourite* brother Ken and his wife Maureen for lunch! They are lovely company because - as Alan put it just this morning - when you're with them, they're present

I'm currently blogging from the living room and Alan just turned on Ocean's 11 and I forgot how good it was and right now I'm pretending like I can multi-task but it's obviously not true because I haven't typed in five minutes. This is clearly the end of today's activity.

I hope you're having a great weekend!

Big hugs and lots of love,

*Alan has three brothers, so this should stir things up. Cheers!