This is the first time I've felt like writing since, well, the last time I wrote.

I came down with a Bug of Misery on Christmas Day night. After all of the cooking, cleaning, further cooking, family stuff, more family stuff, yet MORE cooking, wrapping, eating, and more cleaning, my body did indeed decide to "collapse in a heap" as I had previously envisioned. My preferred "heap" would have been a pyjama-wearing book-reading festival of laziness. The actual "heap" ended up being a pyjama-wearing pillow-drooling medicated celebration of mucus.

Deee-lish.

I owe many people phone calls (hi Heather!), e-mails (hi Jayne!), and instant messaging (hi Jen!). I love you all. Really, I do. I have an excuse, nay, a reason for not responding to you all. I have been completely off-line - Internet, telephone, or any contact with the outside world whatsoever - since Tuesday.

It was kind of refreshing, in a medicine-induced coma sort of way.

At any rate, I'm better today. Well enough to work out for the first time in, well, forever, even. Tonight Calvin and I are going to Dark Horse to watch the Patriots celebrate their victory over the Giants and record the fourth undefeated regular season in NFL history. Them's my boys. And I am SO not jinxing it. It WILL happen. Mark my words.

Anyway, I'm back. So, hi there.

Labels: health, journal

Posted by Laura at 3:06 PM | Permalink | Comments

I worked from home yesterday (translation: I fought several fires in between drug-induced naps). Remember this entry? Yes, well, I succumbed to the inevitable. I mean, with odds like that, and an immune system like mine, the outcome of the crap shoot was a foregone conclusion.

So, I'm feeling ookey, but I'm at work today. I figure I'm all incubated and shit, so I'm no longer contagious. Of course, I'm as far away from being a doctor as a person with a Google MD can be, so what the hell do I know.

Calvin was extremely nice to me yesterday, and brought me food and drinks and medicine and hugs while I lolled around in bed and complained. A lot. I threw together some Minestrone Stew in the crock pot so that we would have steamy nummy goodness for dinner. Opening cans and frying up burger meat was about as much thought as I was prepared to put into making dinner.

Some random thoughts, the only kind my brain is capable of holding at the moment:

• This writer's strike is really irritating me. Not that I don't support them, and not that I don't think all of their points and needs are valid. No, I'm totally selfishly bemoaning the fact that all of "my" shows are over for the foreseeable future. The one I miss the most? Big Bang Theory. _{Hah! You thought it'd be Gray's Anatomy, didn't you? Shows you what I think of the current season.}


• All of my Christmas "shopping" is done, in that I have purchased one gift each for four whole people and everybody else is getting money, and that's it. Well, okay, I have one more person to buy for, and then I'll be done. This will be the CHEAPEST CHRISTMAS EVAR, which is totally in keeping with my Grinchy spirit this year. Not to mention my budget.


• Sliders are my new favorite food.


• I have added several new journals/blogs to my list of "regular reads". I recommend for your enjoyment the following: Cracked, Daily Coyote, FemMarine, Running in Wellies, and Vespa Vagabond (who is the same author for Daily Coyote).
  

To steal a line from Nance, I'm outta here.

Labels: headspace, health, home, journal

Posted by Laura at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments

I get to have this done over the next two days.

You know what this means, don't you? More. Fucking. Needles.

Dammit.

Labels: health

Posted by Laura at 8:59 AM | Permalink | Comments

Hi guys. A lot of you have e-mailed/commented, asking if I've heard anything back from that company in Maine that I interviewed with a couple of weeks ago. I haven't heard anything yet, but they did mention not to expect to hear from them until sometime around the 9th of July. Which is today. So I should know something soon, and you guys will be the second to know. Behind Calvin, of course.

I hate doctors completely. Absolutely. With the white-hot passion of a thousand burning suns. I went to my GP on Friday to see if they could do something about the screwed up thyroid levels appearing on my blood test results, so that I wouldn't have to wait until the 31st to see the endocrinologist (see entry on 6/26). I have almost all the symptoms of hyPOthyroidism (lethargy, weight gain, body aches, among others). Yet the doc said that the test results show that I should be experiencing hypERthyroidism, whose symptoms (heart palpitations, high blood pressure, excess of energy, weight loss, among others) are the exact opposite of how I've been feeling.

Here's the part where I got mad. She said that I'm probably depressed, and should take meds. I told her, "No, I know what that feels like. I've been on anti-depression and anti-anxiety meds before, and went off them back in November. I'm not going back on them, this is different."

She just smiled at me in a condescending fashion, said, "I think you should consider it, since that would be in keeping with all of your symptoms," and pat-patted me on the arm. As if to say, "You can't fix the problem until you admit there is one." Bitch. You all KNOW what hell I went through with my depression and anxiety, and for someone to suggest that I'm in denial or don't know what I talking about REALLY cheesed me.

She wanted to order up yet another round of blood tests and a follow-up appointment, which I absolutely flat-out refused. I am God-awful sick and tired of getting poked with needles. The year is only half over and I've had at LEAST six or seven blood tests already, for a variety of things. And I'm sure the endocrinologist (who I am still seeing) will order another round, since their office wasn't the one who provided this latest blood test, and it will be a couple of months old by the time I finally see them.

Not to mention the fact that each doctor's office uses different sets of ranges and parameters to measure blood and body chemistry, which I find to be the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of. Where is the industry standardization? How do they expect to measure results over time, across disciplines, if their methods of measurement are all different? How do they expect to identify trends? I can't compare the blood tests that I got from the GP, the OB-GYN, and the Gastro doc because they use different measurements and scales for the same labs. It boggles the engineer and data analyst in me.

Let's see, what else? Ah, yes. Back on the 29th, Calvin and I celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary (see here for the entry I did about the wedding). What better way to celebrate than to eat steak, and watch steak! We went to The Keg for some blue cheese crusted filet mignon (uh. mah. gah.), then went to the Jobing.com Arena to watch the pro bull riding competition. I'd never been to any sort of bull riding or rodeo event, even though I've lived in the "Wild Wild West" for coming up on up on fourteen years.

I tell you what, we had a pretty darned good time. I was rooting for the bulls the whole time, of course. We sat next to a group of guys that were out for a buddy's birthday, and ended up gabbing a bit with them and sharing the flask-o'-whiskey around. There was a very pretty girl with a low cut top and hiked up assets sitting in the section below us, and every time she would climb up (and then back down, natch) the stairs on a beer run, the guys would all yell, "Puppies!" Yeesh.

Anyway, we took a billion and three blurry bull pictures. Bulls standing on their heads. Bulls standing on their tails. Bulls leaning at 90 degree angles. Cowboys staying on, cowboys falling off, cowboys getting their privates trounced. And a very entertaining rodeo clown that sang and danced to 80's music. All of the pictures are here, but I think this one sums it all up:


Bull's got hops.

Calvin and I are going to Oregon in a few weeks for the Oregon Brewer's Festival. I also intend on visiting Powells, and Moonstruck. We're staying in downtown Portland and will be there for four days. Are there any readers out there that are native to the area, or have been there, that want to recommend a place to go or a sight to see? Send an e-mail or leave a comment, thanks!

Labels: health, journal, Maine, work

Posted by Laura at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments

I am starting to get quite jealous of Fred and Robyn's garden. Lookit this picture! And this one!

Life just can't be as difficult as it has lately, for crying out loud. Calvin and I are in one hell of a slump, mood-wise. No motivation or general cheeryness to speak of. Just... none. We're even starting to be not-nice to each other, which is the red flag of red flags. Because generally we're on the same side, but lately we're just nitpicking at each other. Plus I haven't been feeling well, which I'm sick of, and which Calvin is sick of, and for Pete's sake, can I not just be HEALTHY?!? I take care of myself, I take my medicine, and it just seems like every time I go to the doc's there's something else wrong with me. Allergies. Asthma. Pancreatitis. Gallstones. Kidney cysts. Acid Reflux. Hyperthyroidism. I don't even want to wonder what might be next.

Just shoot me now.

So how does one swing this pervasive mood around, when there is just nothing but WORK WORK WORK to look forward to? Working at jobs we dislike, working on the house to get it ready to sell it, whenever we're ready for that. Working to reduce our debt and not add to it. Working to keep ourselves and each other happy, content, satisfied, amused. What have you.

Feh, I'm just in a crummy mood today. My morning didn't start out well, with tummy troubles that I will forgo the TMI on. And WHY does the cat have to know what I'm doing when I use the commode, I ask you? He should just mind his own business. I don't poke my head in his business when he's scratching and thumping away in the litter box, after all.

Gadget and Gypsy went to the vet (well, I took them... I'd like to see Gadget try to reach the gas while Gypsy steers...) yesterday. Gadget still has a bad case of kennel cough courtesy of Marie's puppy (who is just the cutest sweetest thing and I PROMISE, Heather, I will take pictures of her the next time she visits and post them!), and Gypsy has a milder case, PLUS infections in both ears. PLUS some kind of growth in her mouth that she'll need surgery to remove. They're walking (panting) petri dishes, for crying out loud. So it's drops in Gypsy's ears twice a day, antibiotics for both of them twice a day, and cough medicine (which I'm picking up from Walgreens today) for Gadget every six hours.

Aww, they're just like Mama, falling apart at the seams.

Straight unsweetened organic cranberry juice is NAS-TAY. You remember that episode of Tweety and Sylvester where Tweety fed Sylvester alum, and Sylvester's mouth puckered up to the dimension of a straw, through which he tried to suck Tweety? Yeah, well, that's what this cranberry juice is doing to me. The things I do to try to stay (get?) healthy.

Feh again. Baaaaaaad mood.

Labels: blogs, health, journal, pets

Posted by Laura at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments

In Arizona in the summertime (or well, really, in Arizona at any time), it is a very good idea to remain well hydrated. I am so much so that I am floating away, and leaving my desk every five minutes to go to the little girl's room. Here's the routine:

- One 8 oz glass of water mixed with the juice of one fresh lemon, first thing every morning upon rising (this is good for the digestion).
- One cup of coffee.
- One 1.5 liter bottle of water, consumed throughout the day.
- Two mugs of green tea, one in the morning, one in the afternoon (today it is Stash Fusion Breakfast Green & Black Tea blend).
- One 12 oz glass of cranberry juice sometime during the day (usually diluted with a little bit of water because that stuff is STAH-RONG).

I take a daily regime of digestive enzymes, a multi-vitamin, a calcium supplement, and a fish oil supplement. My skin and hair LOVE ME.

I am also trying to eat more healthy, whole, organic and/or natural foods. Lots of shopping at Trader Joe's for that one. My usual breakfast is a half-cup of Kashi Go Lean Crunch, mixed with TJ's blueberry or vanilla yogurt. Lunches have primarily been one of TJ's pre-prepared salads, an apple, a piece of flat bread, and some hummus. Dinners are less disciplined but I try to at least keep the portions down and not coat things with butter, ranch dressing, cheese, or what have you. I leave all that to Calvin.

I also signed us up for a "Community Supported Agriculture" program from Desert Roots Farm. Members pay a fee by growing season, and once a week pick up a bag of freshly grown local produce. The summer season should see a selection of carrots, tomatoes, green beans, peppers, onions, eggplant, cucumbers, basil, leeks, watermelon, zucchini, okra, garlic, cantaloupe, squash, and black-eyed peas.

I would love to have a garden of our own, but it's impossible to grow vegetables in Hell. Well, obviously Desert Roots can do it, but not this girl.

I had a blood test a couple of weeks ago, the results of which showed issues with my thyroid. SO! It's off to yet another doctor, an endocrinologist this time, to get THAT fixed. I swear, ever since having my gallbladder out, my body has just gone to hell in a handbasket. I am sick to death of getting poked with needles and told, "Well, it could be this, or that, or this other thing..." Feh. Damn people mechanics, they really just guess a lot.

There you go, a bunch of information you weren't really interested in. Hey, at least I didn't talk about poo.

Labels: health

Posted by Laura at 9:30 AM | Permalink | Comments

The doctor called Calvin back yesterday afternoon. They said they didn't know what the lump was but that we "shouldn't be concerned", and to come back for a follow-up visit in three months.

Hello????

They don't know what it IS, they don't know what it ISN'T, and yet they know that it's nothing to be concerned about and we can just go on our merry way for another three months??? They don't want to do any more tests or scans or ultrasounds or the thousand other things they could be doing to figure out what this thing is???

Fucking doctors. After we get back from vacation, I believe I shall insist that Calvin get a second opinion.

Labels: Calvin, health

Posted by Laura at 3:31 PM | Permalink | Comments

Heh. I just asked Calvin, "Is it okay if I write about what's been going on with you? With your neck meat and stuff?" He said, "Yeah," and I said, "That's going to be the title. 'Neck Meat.'"

I haven't been writing about this since it all started because a) we didn't know what we were dealing with; b) Calvin didn't want to freak out our family and friends; and c) we didn't know how freaked out we should be.

About six weeks ago Calvin was bothered by a lump along the right side of his neck (which he refers to as his "neck meat", hence the title). He figured it was a swollen gland, went to our General Practitioner, and was handed a prescription for antibiotics. Two weeks later, the lump was still there, had grown bigger, and was beginning to hurt. The GP referred Calvin to a specialist, who stuck a scope up Calvin's nose and down into his throat (yarg), didn't really see anything, and ordered a CT scan of the area. The specialist thought there was something going on with Calvin's carotid artery (which Calvin calls his "cartoid", also hence the title) but couldn't determine what without more tests.

Of course, we exercised our Google MD's, and started researching what could possibly be wrong. We found information on carotidynia, and of course cancer and other scary things. I don't know how doctors do it - the same symptoms can be caused by so many different things.

So. Calvin went and got a CT scan. On Thursday of last week he got a call back from the doctor who said that there is "definitely something there" and that they wanted to get some labs done and do a neck biopsy "right away". The doctor was rather urgent about it all and said it couldn't wait until we got back from vacation (then a little more than a week away). Calvin called me at work from his truck, on his way home. He was upset and worried and was going home a bit early. So of course I was upset and worried (and after I hung up with him I went and freaked out a little bit in the bathroom), so I went home early too.

Commence with the freaking out.

To have the medical unknown happen to you is a fucked experience. Calvin and I were both approaching panic, and we started having those conversations. The heavy ones with the life insurance and the will and the "what if" and the "holy fuck". Conversations that make you assess how you've been living your life and the stuff that you've taken for granted, and the changes you're going to make and the light that has been shed upon your blessings.

Any unknown mass automatically makes you think "cancer". Plus it is in Calvin's neck and they wanted to do a "fine needle biopsy". In his neck. With a needle. GACK, much?

We took Friday off for labs, and the biopsy was scheduled for today. We prepared ourselves for a stressful weekend. Waiting is hell, the unknown is worse, plus NECK. And NEEDLE.

Friday morning we went and got his labs done. Then in the late afternoon we got a call from the review radiologist nurse, representing the radiologist who had examined Calvin's CT scan. She said that the radiologist said a biopsy couldn't be performed on the area, and that the procedure for Monday was cancelled. She said we'd have to take "a different approach".

Since she was just the messenger, Calvin didn't freak out at her. But he very pointedly said that he wanted to talk to the actual radiologist. What does "different approach" mean? Could we stop worrying, or did we need to worry more? What the hell, really, was going on?

More phone calls back and forth. The radiologist tried to get ahold of the specialist working with Calvin, but couldn't. They discovered what we had been dealing with for the past month - the specialist's office turns on their phones late in the morning (like, 8:30 instead of the 8:00 that their message claims) and turns off their phones early in the evening (as in, 4:30 instead of 5:00). This particular day (Friday), the specialist just decided to take a day off, and was "on call". So we, and the radiologist, tried to deal with the specialist's answering service. To no avail. No call back, no new information, and now we are in further limbo than we had been before.

You can be sure that we're telling the GP not to recommend this guy to anyone anymore.

We were assured that we would receive more information, and the results of the labs taken on Friday, today. The radiologist was to confer with the specialist, who was to call us and arrange that "different approach" so that we could finalize any procedures that need to happen this week before we leave for Maine on Saturday.

We haven't heard back from anyone. Calvin has called and left messages. We are owed calls back and assurances and MORE GODDAMNED SOLID INFORMATION. It is complete bullshit that doctors can be this cavalier about communicating with their patients. Patients who are worried, with families who are worried, who just want to know what the fuck is going on. We want to know what we're dealing with. We want to know if this upcoming vacation should be used for celebration, or used to prepare ourselves.

I want to know what is wrong with my husband.

At this point, a lot of the panic has been replaced with exasperation. We're still very worried, but hopeful and optimistic and just damned irritated at most medical professionals in general. I will be sure to keep everyone appraised of what's going on. It's tough not to write about something that is so primarily on my mind.

Labels: Calvin, health, journal

Posted by Laura at 12:56 PM | Permalink | Comments

My day is NOT starting off well. I slept like crap last night because my back is killing me, and when the alarm went off the first thought that entered my mind was, "Oh, this is bullshit." So I got up to get situated on the couch with my laptop, and when I went to look for the ice pack in the freezer to help alleviate my back pain, it was gone. Which doesn't surprise me, since lately it seems like every time I go to look for something to end some sort of misery I'm in, it's been taken. Last week it was my allergy medication, a couple of weeks ago it was cookies, this morning it's the ice pack.

I really, REALLY can't wait until the occupancy of this household is decreased. It is one child in particular that is ALWAYS taking things, and I'm really sick of it. That's all I'm saying.

Every morning my boss meets with the folks from manufacturing and then sends an e-mail to the folks in my group with all of the help needed for the day. Invariably my name is always all over the thing. Because I'm special that way. Well, he did say during my review that he wants me to become the "go-to" person. Guess he got his wish... not exactly mine, though. There's nothing like a half-dozen or more "gotta have it NOW" things shot at you first thing in the morning to get your day started off right!

Then Calvin just called me, and the guy that was responsible for hiring him into his company just resigned. It doesn't mean that much will change for Calvin's job, but this was one of the "good guys" and things will just be a little more of the suck now that he's leaving. Which got us talking along the lines of what we want to do and how we want to make our lives happier, which THEN got us down the conversational thread of how much we don't like what we're doing with our lives right now.

AND the cat is about to get murdered because he's just PISSING ME OFF. If I don't feed him as soon as my feet hit the floor when I get up in the morning, he starts looking for things to that will get him in trouble. His hope is that since I'm up to chase him away from whatever badness he's doing (because yelling at him SO doesn't work), I'll just go ahead and feed him since I'm up already. And the fucker is right. I've had to yell at him (again, ineffectually) for jumping up at the water dragon, trying to paw a soda can down off of the half-wall, messing with the wiring behind the TV, scuffling around under the couch, and jumping up on the kitchen counter. The little asshole.

I've got an MRI scheduled for 11:30, then a girly-doctor appointment for 3:30. Since going to the doctors has now become my least favorite thing to do, this double-appointment day is not helping things.

Feh. It's just going to be a bad day. At 9:30, I can just tell.

Labels: Calvin, headspace, health, journal, kids, pets, work

Posted by Laura at 8:42 AM | Permalink | Comments

I have been upright (or at least, not lying down) for 8 hours 44 minutes and counting, people! That's a record since last Sunday morning. Not the one we just had, the one BEFORE that.

I was supposed to have an appointment with a GI doctor (who is going to want to stick things in me and up me and down me, I just know it) this morning, but the schedule chickie messed things up so it's tomorrow morning. One more day to wonder at the mystery that is my aching innards. Though it doesn't hurt quite as much to be conscious, but that might be a build-up of Vicodin talking. Better not get my hopes up.

That is all, carry on.

Labels: health

Posted by Laura at 4:44 PM | Permalink | Comments

I am bedridden.
Not the fun way, since Sunday.
Sleeping gets way old.

ER gets old too.
The place not the show, with no
Goran Visnjic in sight.

My family's funny.
"I have a pain in my chess..."
Gets laughs every time.

Ode to Vicodin.
Chased with some Pepto Bismol,
and twelve Tylenol.

To live, ah, to eat!
Crackers and water have done
wonders for my waist.

Normalcy, I pray.
Else I will gnaw off my arm
out of sheer boredom.

Labels: health

Posted by Laura at 7:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

Remember last post when I had a no good, very bad day? Yes, well that feeling that I thought was either anxiety or indigestion is actually pancreatitis.

Yippee.

Labels: health

Posted by Laura at 10:05 AM | Permalink | Comments

Long time readers are familiar with the fact that I am very honest about my health, the issues I have experienced, and my opinions of topics related to wellness, nutrition, fitness, and exercise. I am comfortable with sharing - probably to the point of oversharing, sometimes. I do this with the hope that relating of some of my experiences will help educate other people regarding their own health concerns, offer resources they may not have known were out there, or at least let them know they are not alone in the world. I have gotten feedback from lots of folks on a myriad of topics, both from this site (and the main journal) and from Operation::Goddess, which gives me encouragement that my sharing is a good thing.

So, here I go again. I just posted an abbreviated version at Operation::Goddess about this, but I felt the need to expound in greater detail here.

I have suspected for a while that I suffer from hormone imbalance, specifically symptoms of perimenopause, which is really not uncommon for women in their 30's. Of these symptoms listed (courtesy of this site), I suffer from a startling number (though, thankfully, not all) of them:

Fatigue
Cravings for sweets or carbohydrates
Weight gain
Hot flashes or night sweats
PMS
Feeling depressed or overwhelmed
Mood swings or irritability
Insomnia or restless sleep
Headaches
Loss of desire
Fuzzy thinking
Digestive issues
Stiffness or joint pain
Anxiety
Heart palpitations
Breast pain
Urinary dysfunction
Hair loss/dry skin
Vaginal dryness
Irregular periods
Fibroids

Now, like most people, I figured a lot of these symptoms were from depression, stress, poor diet, or just plain "getting old". All of you will recall that I saw a therapist for depression and anxiety, I had digestive issues that resulted in my gallbladder being removed, and I've been battling for some time to find the right "secret" that would result in weight loss for me. I've tried MYRIADS of things to help fix all of the things I've mentioned here, plus some other things that (you'll thank me) I didn't post about. The links I provided don't even scratch the surface of all of the entries I've written about my, erm, adventures.

I've seen doctor after doctor - specialists, therapists, nutritionists, general practitioners, OB-GYN's. I've mentioned, repeatedly, my concerns over my various symptoms. Their reactions have ranged from looking at me like I'm crazy, to prescribing things that will individually treat one or two symptoms (until at one point I was taking 8 prescriptions simultaneously), to telling me this is all normal "for me" because "everyone is different", to blaming it all on stress and telling me to "destress" my life (yeah, right), to flat-out stating that it's all "in my head". I've been tested for food allergies. I've had my blood drawn more than all the victims combined in all seven seasons of Buffy. I've done stuff covered by my insurance, and stuff not covered by my insurance.

After all of that, nobody seemed to come up with an answer that satisfied me. And, my symptoms started worsening. So, I said, "Fuck that noise," and decided to do some research on my own. Which is what lead me to my self-diagnosis of hormone imbalance. I mentioned this thought to my general practitioner (oh-so-helpful as she always is), who figured it was as good of a reason as any for my complaints.

So! This week, I am starting a personalized program with Women to Women, which happens to be the OB-GYN that I saw when I lived in Maine. I was very pleased to find them at the top of the Google search when I entered in "hormone imbalance". I think on a regular basis, when doing the girly necessary annual crap, that I wish I could still go to the W2W clinic in Yarmouth, Maine. They were fantastic - very understanding, knowledgeable, and most importantly they took their time with each patient and actually conversed. It always made me feel like they actually cared about what was going on with me, and weren't trying to brush me off in order to get to their next patient (a complaint I hold VERY dear regarding my current doctor). Plus, their facility is in a very nicely converted Victorian home, which made me feel like I was visiting a friend rather than a doctor's office. Next best thing to being able to physically go to their clinic is getting their support long-distance, via e-mail and phone support, which thus far has been excellent.

This program involves nutritional changes (based on the Schwarzbein Principle, of which I am already familiar), a supplement regime, and a bioidentical progesterone cream. All of it targets the rebalancing of hormones and the relief of perimenopause symptoms.

This is NOT another one of those "fix it fast" fad regimes. It's actually developed by doctors, whose clinic I actually utilized. There's information on a bunch of evidentiary studies for those people (like me) who need the stats and figures and formulas and expert mumbo-jumbo in order to make a decision. The fact that I have met the doctors (in fact, the W2W co-founder and director was my OB-GYN), experienced their care, and have actually physically been to their clinic, was the combination that convinced me that this program is worth a try.

Here is information on their personal program, information on their supplements, and information on their recommended free profile.

I will post updates on my progress and experiences over at Operation::Goddess, just so journal readers can choose how much TMI they want to indulge in. I hope at best that some of this helps someone out there, or at worst that I don't scare off any readers!

Labels: health, journal, Op:Goddess

Posted by Laura at 12:06 PM | Permalink | Comments