I did not know that it was a leap year until yesterday.  Nobody ever tells me *anything*.  So anyways, I am thrilled that I will get to be 35 for an extra day before hitting 36.  I’ve highly enjoyed being 35.  It’s been great fun, I got some more grey hair (notice that British spelling for my European and Canadian friends), I lost weight, I gained weight, I learned a bunch of stuff about the 1400s, 1500s and 1800s, and I probably spent more (productive + fun) time with my kids this last year than any other time.  I only have a month and a half left of being 35 so I plan to make the most of it. I wish I could have another year or two at it, but, alas, I’ve got other ages to become.  If you are thinking about becoming 35, I would highly recommend it.  But while I’m thinking about it, when I get to heaven, I am going to specifically request to exist as a 26 year old.  26 was also tremendously enjoyable – I was old enough to almost be taken seriously, but still young enough to somersault down steep hills with my kids.  I’m sad to say that I would probably not attempt steep hill somersaulting anymore.  It’s unlikely that I would even attempt carpeted-living-room somersaulting.  I don’t know.  Maybe I would.  I’m all of a sudden struck with an urge to sneak into the living room and give it a try. hmmmmm…

In other news, Coie just figured out that she’s going to get a gaggle of goats soon.  She was so excited I seriously thought she was going to cry.  Ryann also looked like she was going to cry… she’s the one who’s gonna be milking them twice a day since Coie is gone so much.  Ryann is not a great fan of goats.  However, I am a great fan of coerced teamwork, so it all works out just fine.  Actually, in all truthfulness, as much as Ryann anti-loves snuggling up to lactating cud-chewers, she has always helped Coie with whatever was needed and continuously tries to find additional things to assist her sister…  hey, say that out loud; that’s fun.  And that would make her, ‘Coie’s a-sister’.  

So anyways, let us know if you, or anybody you know, wants to NOT purchase some of our goat milk — because, as you probably know, it is illegal to sell goat milk for human consumption, so we shan’t be doing any sort of *that* nonsense.  Could you imagine the chaos that would break out if people were not protected against serial goat-milk sellers?  It’s a good thing the government is willing to step in and shield us from such diabolical threats.  And I’ll go a step further and submit that anybody caught selling goat milk should be strung up and shot several times.  I mean, seriously, I’m pretty sure that’s what ended up toppling the Roman Empire… it was out-of-control goat milk dealers.  If we value our American way of life, we need to enforce a zero tolerance policy.

That being said, if you are indeed interested in not buying goat milk, we would be happy to let you have some for pet consumption, or, uh, for soap making, or… um, any goat milk arts-and-craft projects you may be working on, etc etc etc.

Lastly, as requested, here is a close up of my lovely hand-crafted butterfly necklace made by Charley the Wonder Brother.  I still can’t believe he actually MADE that.  Unbelievable.

February 28th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

I’ve totally lucked out in the brother-in-law department. Seriously. For Christmas, Jessica’s husband made my girls these incredible intricate and tremendously lovely necklaces, which he hand carved, right? And, at the time, in jest (sort of in jest, but also in full seriousness) I whined how it wasn’t fair that *I* didn’t get an excellent necklace and demanded – I mean, requested– a butterfly necklace (despite the carved ‘Igarashi bear’, the two tree swings, the hacksaw, the cutting board, etc that he’s bestowed upon us). I really wanted a necklace like my girls’ got.

So anyhow, the weekend hit, and I was minding my own business when all of a sudden this box shows up with birthday gifts for Ryann and Coie… and non-birthday gifts for *me* — including a very cool hoodie, candy bars AND, check it out… an exquisite hand carved butterfly necklace !!!!! I was stunned. I mean, I whine all the time about stuff I want and I never get it, and so I really had not even a hint of an idea that I would get one!

Is that not incredible? He CARVED that. Don’t ask me how, I have no idea. I can’t even carve a turkey. I have the most talented, brilliant, generous, genius, brodie-in-law in all of the East Western hemisphere

And since I’m sharing pictures, these are my new favorite slippers (that I wear non-stop), which my beautiful momsie-in-law gave me. Ryann took the picture. See how almost practically dainty they make my big old clunkish size nines appear? They are my optical illusion slippers and I *heart* them. 

In other news, guess who turns 14 tomorrow?  I don’t know how I ended up with such perfectly excellent daughters. Ryann defies description. I cannot tell you how proud I am of her. I’ve never known anybody like her – so lovely, so quick to make everybody feel welcome, the way she singles out anybody who’s lonely – she has a knack for making people feel loved. But most of all, she loves God with her whole heart and continually strives to do right. I am the luckiest mama on the face of the planet. If you have daughters, you know what I mean when I say there is just nothing in the world that compares. My prayer is that my girls’ will be as blessed by someday ending up with children as lovely as they are.

Happy Sigh. This week is off to a good start.

Oh, and i almost forget.  I had the weirdest dream.  over the last ten years i periodically dream that my teeth are crumbling up and falling out (totally stressful!).  the other night, i dreamed that me and geoff were on vacation and my bottom teeth were breaking into little peices.  After a while, i had a whole mouthful of broken teeth pieces.  So i went into the bathroom to spit them out, and i realized that my whole row of bottom teeth were crumbling and falling out because a brand new row of straight white teeth were coming up to replace them.  It was so odd. 

February 25th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

Ok… I’m usually the last to find out about all the really neato, super excellent places to go, but thanks to Kristina, I just got clued in to The Homeschool Lounge – which, is entirely addictive.  It seems to be all the rage, and I have already had a lot of fun running around and bumping into things, figuring out how things work, etc. Here is the page I set up last night.  It almost feels like going to a homeschool convention and running into all of your friends.  I’ve never seen a website like it before.  I Like It Tons Times Two.

Ok, in other news, I found an email that I had missed (from about a month ago) from a friend who was asking what I did about ‘visiting issues’ when my kids played with other friends.  Essentially, she was having some difficulties because she has a large family with kids that are different ages, and inevitably, it seemed like some of her kids would get left out, or the younger ones not get invited to parties of older kids, etc. and hanging out with friends would end up causing stress.  She was wondering if anybody else ever felt compelled to talk to other kids’ parents (her friends) and complain if their kids won’t include her younger ones. 

I had never really thought of that being an issue, but she wondered if anybody else dealt with that… the pressure to be age segregated even in homeschool circles.  I didn’t have a whole lot to say because I am such a hermit, we hardly ever see anybody, and when we do, my kids are very particular about keeping their siblings tied to their hip. Not to mention I also sort of like it when my kids get left out, or if somebody is kind of mean to them because then they get to practice being a leader, and to toughen up, and to deal with real life issues that may hit them in the ‘real world’.  That’s an important thing to learn and a hard thing to teach!

I probably do not fit the norm when it comes to ‘socializing’. First of all, like I said, we don’t do it very often.  And when we do, my kids are their own peer group and are very sensitive to look out for each other.  Plus, they are also not shy, so they do not usually end up getting left out  – or if they do, they are like me and aren’t bright enough to know when they’re being snubbed.  We’re like a pack of big dumb sheep dogs.  “hi… hi… how’s it going? … wanna play catch? No?  ok!  Wanna run around the yard? No?  ok!  Wanna see my new socks? No?  ok!  You want me to get lost?  Ok!  I’ll hide, find me when you’re ready.  Grin grin slobber slobber”  We just keeping asking until somebody finally humors us.

But anyways, I told her I would throw it out and see if any of you smart people had any insight, advice, philosophies or examples of what happens when your kids are grouped up with others.  Any takers?

February 21st, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

I have a story for you.  Some of you may have already heard it, but none-the-less…

Nineteen years ago I was a mess.  Really… *quite* the mess.  I was too dumb to form a particular philosophy, but had I ever given it any thought, I could have seen my philosophy lived out in my flatly pig-like existence.  I simply snorted and rooted around looking for basic pleasures and day to day happiness and needs.  There was no thought for the future.  None.  And then, all of a sudden on February 19^th, Coie fell out of the sky and landed right in my lap.

Sadly, for Coie, even the event of having her around could not induce my brain to work properly.  It could not be bent in a way to reveal my own utter self obsessed rampages.  Her first three years were very tumultuous.  She lived with her grandma, she lived with her aunt, or she survived thru days with whomever I happened to be living with.

So when she turned three, another life changing event happened in my life.  Several things happened, actually, but the one thing that really jolted me, was she began to speak in complete sentences.  Before that, she was more like a cute little monkey I carted around on my hip.  But now, she would look at me and say things.  And then all of a sudden it dawned on me that this little miniature was human and that one of these days it was going to grow up and form opinions about its mother.

That scared me.  As selfish and stupid as I was, the one thing I could not endure was having my child see what an absolute loser I was.  But the trouble was I had no idea what to do about it.  Once one figures out they are a loser, it is certainly a step in the right direction, but I was still stuck.  How do you teach a brick to turn itself into clay?  It’s impossible.  My very nature was one of the sewage variety.     

So I started crying out to God.  I just started begging Him to make me unstupid.  And I begged all of the time.  I would kneel at the end of my bed and just beg and beg and plead.  I didn’t even know what to beg for except: “…You have to change me.  I can’t be this person.  Please turn me into somebody different”.  

At the same time, I would look at my little three year old human (who had ceased to be a monkey) and promise her that I would find her a perfect daddy and we would have a happy family.

And then I met Geoff and he became my friend.  He was not a gang member, he was not a criminal, he was not a high school drop out, he was not a drug addict or an alcoholic; he did not take advantage of girls, beat them up, or treat them as subhuman.  He was this sort of nerdy Christian guy who loved God in an extreme way that was very odd to me.  And he was willing to be my friend.  I hung out with him and his preppy, college-attending, friends, and instead of having all night ragers or go club hopping, they would sit around in Geoff’s living room and play Taboo and eat gummy bears.  It was SO weird.  

After about two months of this I thought I was going crazy.  And I thought Geoff had a crush on me — which creeped me out – but then later I found out that HE thought *I* had a crush him and it creeped him out, so that was fixed.  But still, I was always discombobulated with my new nerdy friends.  And I would think about ditching them and calling up my old party friends… but then I would remember how hard I had been praying for a new life, and I would look at Coie and know that we would both be destroyed if I went back to what ‘felt normal’ to me.

Long story short… Me and Geoff ended up getting together (on accident) and I got saved – in the sense that now I not only acknowledged my sin, but I determined to turn away from it.  Ours was never a passionate, desperate, Romeo / Juliet affair.  In my former life I had only known passionate, volatile, desperate relationships, and they had always ended fatally amiss.  I was determined to make this one work no matter how ‘abnormal’ it seemed.  I would no longer be driven by emotion, but instead, by rationality and wise choices.  And nobody in the world was as good a man, as true, faithful and dedicated to God, than Geoff.   And nobody in the world could have been a better father and husband than he has been these last 14 years.

So what’s my point?  My point is that God loves me so much.  He really does.  I don’t know why, because there is no reason to, but He does.  Maybe it’s for the same reason He loved the apostle Paul (1 Timothy chapter 1): “God saved me, the chief of sinners, so that He could display His unlimited patience and mercy as an example” …so that others may realize there’s hope for literally anybody.  But anyways, those of us who are His, He brings us to Himself in different ways.  And the primary motivating factor for me to even want to change was my daughter, Coie.  God used her as the first step in drawing me to Himself.  

My little daughter – born to me, thus doomed to a life of welfare checks, and surrounded by criminal friends, drug addicts and losers – was the very object that God used to save both of us.   His ways make no sense to me, but I love Him desperately for saving us out of that pit. And I will never cease to praise Him for turning me into a completely different person.  And I mean that in its ‘present’ tense, because He is still ever changing me.

I tell my kids very plainly of my past life.  I want them to know His grace and mercy.  He is the only one who can turn a brick into clay.  He alone.  I do not want them to have a false idea of the world.  I do not want them shunning the dying.  I want them to have compassion for them — for their mother was once one of those dying multitudes. I want them to love God and love others, even those who seem unlovable.  

So, today, as I think about my beautiful little girl, I cannot stop the tears as I remember how God sent her….to me.  She was a gift, and a testament of His amazing grace, love and infinite power to change lives.  I am in awe of the adult she has become (despite me) and of her understanding, knowledge and personal devotion to our Lord.  God has used her more in these last 19 years than I think she can ever truly understand.   

Happy Birthday Coie, you are an immensely valued treasure.

February 18th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

It looks like Spring outside, but it’s lying.  It’s *freezing* out there.  I think I am going to start planting some seeds in little cups and put them in front of a window.  I feel like I need to garden something.  I really don’t like winter.  But I especially don’t like summer.  I wish I had two houses.  One way up north and one way down south.  That would be perfectly lovely.

Anyways, about this time, every year without fail, I get very restless.  It seems like everything is at a standstill and nothing productive is getting done, hence, the yearning for planting stuff hits me.  I think I will have a better shot at gardening since I almost practically sort of had some success last year.  This time I’m going to try and get some green beans to grow, and some of those flat peas that go nicely in stir fry.

In other news, poor Coie hit a dumb deer and messed up her car.  What a bummer.  But she is fine and her car still runs, so all is well.

Lastly, I read this quote in my Elizabeth I book and it stood out very singularly:

"…If many days service, and not a few years’ proof, have shown my unremovable faithfulness, what shall I then think about all of that past praise and favor, which is now suddenly and utterly cast off from a single offense?"

So it seems that even then, as it is now, Trust, Love and Loyalty was subject to bitter disappointments.  And it is true, no matter how loyal, how faithful, or how much you are willing to sacrifice for another… human love is fragile and fickle.  And you simply cannot control or change others.  You can only follow God and obey His word, and trust that He has a plan, which is working together for good for those of us who love Him.  And He will never forsake us or disappoint us.  He is patient and trustworthy, long suffering and forgiving. 

May we love others as He loves us — whether or not that love is reciprocated.  No, it’s not easy, but that’s the whole point.  It is easy to love the lovable.  But are we willing to continue loving the ones who hate us, mistrust us, spurn us, and/or mistreat us?  And if so, what does that love look like ?  And thus concludes my anti-antiValentine’s day sentiments.   And speaking of Valentines… my funny husband, just like i said, brought me flowers and candy.  He is always the greatest.  Everyday is valentines with him…

February 15th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

  edit and update… you should seriously check THIS out.  My friend, Emily, over at The Learning Never Stops is giving away an entire set of Kingdom Series books!!!  Contest ends this weekend

My heavens.  I’m pretty sure it’s all Coie’s fault and that she brought me the flu from Home Depot.  

So anyways, Geoff’s mom and dad came down for the weekend, right?  I was *so* looking forward to that, and I was sick as a cow and stayed in bed the whole time they were here.  Isn’t that awful?  I played no pinochle, had no enlivened conversation, I did not go out to dinner with everybody; I just laid in bed and snored and drooled.

But I’m still glad they came because A) my kids were heaven and B) my mother in law made me chicken soup – the best chicken soup I ever had.  I hope Emmiko wrote down the recipe.  

In other news, I am contemplating running an anti-Valentines day contest in opposition to SmallWorld’s.   Of all holidays that I detest (which really aren’t many) Valentine’s Day gets my all time Loath award.  And it’s not because something awful happened to me which has scarred my romantic psyche.  It’s because I think Valentine’s Day turns normal, average, reasonable women into neurotic, self-obsessed, whiney, piteous, crybabies.  It puts too much pressure on them and it puts too much pressure on their poor unsuspecting husbands.  

And no, Valentine’s Day does not affect ‘all’ women like that – it probably doesn’t even affect ‘most’ women like that.  But I’m looking out for us underdogs….yep, I’m Anti-Valentining on behalf of all us ladies who tend to put more emphasis on a thing than there should be.  It’s too easy to get sucked into a state of nervous expectation that says, “I don’t know what I want in particular, but that man better figure out what it is and do something that makes me feel like a Queen”  God forbid the poor man who only comes home with a card, or… forgets.  Burn him at the stake and then CHOP OFF HIS HEAD!

And it’s a bummer, too, because no matter how hard I protest and tell everybody in my family how much I hate Valentine’s Day, I still end up with a card, usually some flowers and some chocolate.  Nobody ever listens to me.  And Geoff only tells me, “I’m afraid NOT to” 

So Happy Anti-Valentines to all of you fellow Antivalentiners

February 12th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 28 Comments

I have the greatest friends ever.  My favoriteCA comrade sent me a box of presents — out of the blue — on Wednesday.  Didn’t there used to be a show in the 80s called Out of the Blue?  Anyways, she is the one who got me started on the King Henry VIII books… and today she sent me (for keeps!) the Alison Weir book on Elizabeth I.  PLUS two books (also for keeps!) by Emma Leslie – one is about what was going on in 600 AD (Muhammad stuff), and the other is about 1000 AD Saxon England.  And thank goodness, that second one doesn’t have anything to do with math.  Otherwise I’d have had to pack that puppy right up and sent it straight back from whence it came.  No true friend should ever send math books ‘just for the fun of it’.  And lucky for me, mine didn’t.  

She also sent me a shirt.  And not just any shirt.  It’s a black shirt with sparkly sequins, and said sparklies spell out: “haute housewife”.   She tells me it’s something to disco around my living room in.  She also requested a picture (thankfully, not one of me discoing).  So without further ado, I give you 

Shirt Noir avec Paillettes (Black Shirt with Sparkly Sequins):

yeah, I know, it makes a lot of sense taking a picture with words and then having your mop cover half of it.  Well, I aint taking another photo, so you’ll just have to believe that it says what I told you. 

And when the ryann-cam pans back…. I can be observed in my indigenous housewife surroundings.

….I’ve been meaning to get to that pile. And too bad you can’t see my hideously ugly house-wife-slippers very well.  They’re monstrously delightful.

And no, I didn’t know what “haute” means, either.  I had to look it up.  It’s French, which made me feel better about not having a clue.  I got the pronunciation all wrong though.  At first I thought ‘au’ said AW, so it would sound like haughty and then I thought ‘au’ said OW, like in Hauser, so in that case ‘haute’ would almost sound like howdy! (which would be best defined in my case – think, friendly hillbilly) But then Coie came home and said, “HOT HOUSEWIFE!?!?!!” which immediately guaranteed I’d only be wearing it inside my house.  Anyways, however it’s pronounced, haute means: “fashionable; high class”, which makes the sparkly sequin French shirt double-funny.  Merci mon cher ami, Kate!

And for any of you exceptionally detail oriented people wondering where my eyeglasses went, I am sad to report that the prescription was too strong for me, so I have to go back and get them realigned.  Dreadful stuff.

In other news, the word ‘sequins’ and ‘penguins’ are disturbingly similar, don’t you think?

Au revoir!

February 8th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

No, I am not referencing McCain’s stinging victory, I mean, sure, that may be another reason to panic, but I have a different story for you today.

So it’s been exceptionally hot the last couple of days, right?  Like, yesterday was 73 degrees.  It was so deliciously warm that I even slept with my window open and was gently awoken with a soft drumming of rain falling on the deck.  Lovely.  

See? It all started out well enough… so then I checked my email and there’s this alarming message from my favorite Ca chum asking, “Are you dead?  The entire Southeast has been ripped away by a series of killer tornadoes!”.  (In actuality it said, “Are you guys ok?  The news is reporting severe weather out there" – but this is my story, and I’ll tell it how I want to).

And as the light rain continued to pitter patter with charm, I emailed back saying how delightful the weather has been.  And then, about 15 minutes later, my blinds started clattering violently and sucked up against the screen.  “What’s this?”  And then I happened to pull up CNN and saw, “TN Tornadoes Wreaking Havoc!”.  Yeeeeeps; Gulp.  The sky suddenly turned blackish and the house shook with thunder. So I flipped the radio on and heard, “Tornado warnings are in effect for East TN until 11”. 

That’s when I started running around the house blindly bumping into walls and knocking over all the furniture (not really, but it’s an enjoyable visual).   I told Coie, “Child, you are NOT going to work today”.  She, in return, rummaged around until she found my heart medication and popped the lid off for me. 

So then I go back to my bedroom and I hear something suspicious.  Really Suspicious.  In mounting panic I threw the window open to see if I was hearing what I thought I was hearing.  And sure enough.  I heard it.  All tornado attacks are preceded by the distinct ‘roar of a train’.  And there was no mistaking it.  I heard it.  I heard the train and it was getting louder and louder.  I wasn’t sure what to do.  I froze.  Really.  I simply froze.  And then I heard, “tooooooot     toooooooot”.  And then I remembered we live pretty close to the railroad track.  It was a real train.  Not a tornado train.  Talk about being minutes away from a full blown four valve blow out.

I’m much better now.  

After I was done panicking — about a half hour later — I was sitting around the table, while my kids ate breakfast, talking about government (yes, life snaps back to normal pretty quickly around these parts) and I asked them to name the three branches of government, and Coie pipes up , “Dairy, Meat, Vegetables”.  And with that, I encouraged her to go get ready for work.  Smart aleck.  How can one teach under those sorts of conditions? 

but in conclusion, my house is still standing, our poultry has not been swept skyward, our pond has not overflowed, and the wind stopped blowing.  So, just in case you were wondering, the tornadoes left us completely alone and unharmed. 

February 6th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments

Human nature is funny.  We all have these quirky self-preservation modes, which are apt to kick in at the slightest provocation.  We are quick to see an injustice done to ourselves; if we believe we’ve been the victim of gossip, or feel that we’ve been cheated or taken advantage of, etc, we feel it instantly!  Yet, for the most part, we wouldn’t consider the same behavior ‘gossip’, or ‘cheating’, or ‘taking advantage’ if we were to do it.  Because, after all, we know our hearts, and we know we meant no real harm.  We can always justify what we do, but by gum, we won’t put up with that sort of nonsense from others!

We are great liars.  And it’s a shame we’re so easily self deluded.  It’s not like anybody on purpose sets out to be mean, unkind, irritating or obtuse.  In many cases it happens naturally.  The trick is finding out that you’re an idiot and then doing something productive to change it.  But alas, it is easier to believe we’re basically good and that we mean well in our heart, and so instead we pray that everybody around us will change.

And why am I talking about this?  No reason, really, I’m just reading these books by Anthony Trollope (I am earnestly addicted to this author) and he has a knack for summing up those sorts of distinctives in his characters and it always makes me think.

So are you totally sick of hearing me talk about Trollope?  You wouldn’t be if you read some of his work.  Then you’d want to start a Trollope Society with me.  Actually, we might have to work on the name for our club, lest we’re portrayed as vulgar, disreputable women (the literal definition of a ‘trollop’).  At least his last name wasn’t Hooker… I’d be even less inclined to start a Hooker Society.  I have actually met several people with the last name Hooker.  How come people with awful names don’t just change them?  Change it to Hook, or Hakefield or Hatbury – something classy.  Perhaps people get too wrapped up with sentimentality of the Old Family Name.  I suppose it’s easier being a girl… we know we’re bound to change our last name when we’re young, so we don’t become too particularly attached to it.  No offense to any Hookers or Trollops out there.

Thanks for all the swell Happy Regards for Geoff the Great’s birthday.  He is so marvelous.  We went to a Mexican restaurant today, in Knoxville, and had a lovely time of it.  I am very sorry that you all can’t be married to him because he is truly the greatest man who has ever lived (I mean besides the One who wasn’t also part God, naturally).  Some times I feel sorry for all the other ladies in the world because out of everybody in the whole big earth, I was the one who got him.  Hopefully you feel the same about your own darling spouse, yet, none-the-less, I still think I won the top prize.

Ok, I’m almost done.  I also want to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my most tremendously fabulous friend, Angie.  She turned 19 today.  Anyways, she looks like she just turned 19.  And get this… she came over Saturday to let her kids play and while I’m in the middle of wishing her a Happy Birthday, she pulls out a big bag of presents FOR ME, and plus one for Geoff.  She is so nutty.

Lastly, today I found out that my most {quick… somebody find me a word that means more than perfectly excellent and sublimely wonderful} in-laws are coming down this weekend.  We are all beside ourselves with glee.  In addition to getting the most excellent husband in the world, I also happened to get the most excellent in-laws in the world.  I have no idea how I did that.  Anyways, we are totally excited.  It is always a party when we’re with them. 

Boy this is got long and rather rambley, didn’t it?  I suppose I’ll be done for now.  But I feel like I’m forgetting to tell you something.  Ah well.  Till next time, then. 

Love Jenefer Wright Igarashi, who shall not vote in this year’s primaries, nor (most probably) in the general election from want of interest (or inspiration) in any singular candidate.  

February 4th, 2008 - Posted in Uncategorized | | 0 Comments