HellFire
Scorching smoldering
Hot dry smoky swirly winds
SoCal inferno
Photos taken yesterday from our upstairs window.
Poem and photos…
Copyright Enchanted Seashells
HellFire…Haiku For You
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Category Archives: Princess Rosebud
What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?
For this #MothersDay, I’m honored to welcome a special guest poster on Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud…my very own daughter-in-law, or as we fondly refer to her, DIL. I know you’ll love this post as much as I do. Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!
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What Does a Cosmo, the Trauma Unit, and Mother’s Day Have In Common?
As we sit 20,000 feet up in seats 1C, 1D, & 1E, our little team can almost exhale as we head home from Boston to San Diego.
Rewind ten days.
What would you do at 4:00 a.m. when you’re terrified in the Emergency Room. Your husband is in agony. The surgeons’ don’t know what’s up and the pain meds aren’t working?
You call family.
Nobody wants to make that call. I knew that waking up MIL in the middle of the night to tell her that her Angel Boy was in the Emergency Room hooked up to morphine 3000 miles away would put the ice-cold, fear-of-God in her.
I took a deep breath and dialed. When she did not pick up I knew the panic she would feel when I called again right after.
No one wants to see their DIL’s number twice in a row in the middle of the night.
When I got through I told her calmly what was happening. I could hear the panic in her voice but she responded exactly as a mother should. She said that she was on her way. Not just hopping in the car or on the bus. She was booking tickets to fly across the country without a moment’s thought. I knew that I had opened them to that sick pain and fear I was feeling – but it had made me feel better. I knew whatever was coming I did not have to face it alone. And that’s what good mothers do. They take on your pain, so you can feel better.
From then on, I counted the hours until they arrived. Literally. I did not leave AB’s side until they got there and I knew another loved one could watch over him.
It had been fifteen hours in the hospital without even a cuppa. I had screamed, cried, fought, and begged every RN, CRN, resident, consultant, physician, surgeon, radiologist, you name it. But now I knew I had some people on my team.
Team AB.
The next ten days after the surgery went by on auto-pilot. I’m convinced Team AB drove the whole floor nuts. We were on their ass 24/7 – from wash clothes, to walks, to IV, to test, results, more CTs — we did not stop for a moment to breathe.
But me and MIL were on the same team, working together, side by side, to make sure our AB got better.
It’s true when they say you have to laugh or you’ll cry. Too true! In amongst all of the drama and fear we belly laughed. I mean really laughed. Even when Jason’s roommate “One Tooth Tommy’s” girlfriend overdosed him on her street Xanex. Or or when I got some sympathy gas in the canteen in front of a table of young cute residents.
The day AB was getting discharged, I woke up and I looked over in our hotel room to see MIL sleeping and next to her an empty glass of wine, vodka tonic, and the remains of my Cosmo. What can I say? It had been one of those weeks.
And now as we head home to San Diego, it could not be more perfect that tomorrow is Mother’s Day.
Because it’s definitely time to celebrate MIL.
When an emergency hits – it comes out of nowhere and the whole world stops.
Everything is stripped back and you see people for who they really are.
Raw.
What we saw this week was the purest and selfless love of a mother.
AB, you are lucky to have such a mom.
And I am lucky to have a friend, a partner in crime, and the best MIL you could wish for!
Happy Mother’s Day!
Wandering to Zion, Part Three
Our road trip adventure continues…only two more installments and then I’ll be back to writing sparkly + snarky commentary.
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Confession: I’m a great co-pilot traveling companion. You would LOVE to have me in the passenger seat with you, I promise.
I keep the snacks flowing, conversation is stimulating, and I even throw a few dance moves in with jazz hands
at appropriate moments. Jazz hands are the BEST.
Kitty jazz hands are even better, don’t you agree?
We compiled a bunch of music for the road; stuff we both like; Frank, Ella, Nat King Cole, and stuff I like; Adele and Christina Perri.
The next morning we hit the road to explore the Petrified Forest National Park and Painted Desert. We walked pretty much throughout the whole park at every stop and trailhead. The sky wasn’t as blue as the day before so the colors weren’t as vibrant as they might have been.
Of course I stopped at a gift shop for local wares, and I chose geodes, petrified wood, and a petrified sand dollar!
It’s hard to believe this was all under the ocean a zillion years ago. Evidence of early human occupation (13,000 years ago) is readily visible with petroglyphs and potsherds.
Our plan was to journey on the Highway 40 — old Route 66 — to Natural Bridges National Monument in southeast Utah, between Hanksville and Blanding. It’s rather remote and not close to other parks so is not so heavily visited. Unlike Arches National Park with over 2,000 classified arches, there are only three bridges here though the monument also contains Anasazi cliff dwellings, pictographs and white sandstone canyons.
But…when we got back on the road, one of the dashboard gauges indicated that we were losing power.
Things didn’t look good.
We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere.
Although he packed a lot of tools, the one thing we needed most, something called a volt meter, was still at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
Lucky for us (unlucky for lots of other cars that must break down on that road) we saw a hand painted sign for Mike’s Auto Repair and took the next exit.
Mike was like a lot of people we came in contact with in Arizona — sorta friendly, sorta not — and all business. He had a volt meter, and we figured that our problem was either a bad battery or a bad alternator — or both.
We gave Mike a “donation” for the use of his diagnostic tool which ensured that our tires remained unslashed, and drove forty miles back to Holbrook, where there was an O’Reilly Auto Parts Store, just like there was in Payson where we had a less urgent car repair issue.
I was nervous the whole way — being stranded didn’t sound like it was any sort of adventure that I wanted to experience.
In Holbrook, we bought a battery which was installed in a few minutes.
Everyone at O’Reilly thought that would/should solve the problem…and brushed aside my BRILLIANT and soon-to-be prophetic suggestion that we also purchase an alternator “just in case”.
We’ve gone on a lot of road trips and we’ve never had any problems, and so far this was our second mechanical failure in three days. For someone who has absolutely NO idea about what makes cars tick, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to stock up on parts that MIGHT break, right?
Can you guess where this is going?
We hadn’t gone more than one mile when the battery gauge indicated a problem in the electrical system — again.
Obviously not the battery this time, but somehow the battery wasn’t charging.
Yup.
The alternator or the voltage regulator was probably at fault. Apparently, everything decided to fail at the same time. We immediately turned around back to O’Reilly and lucked out that they even had the right part in stock or we might still be there.
There’s a Dollar General on pretty much every corner throughout Arizona and I picked my way between broken glass and plastic bags across a trash strewn empty lot for a little retail therapy. I went up and down every aisle but came away empty-handed; nothing caught my discerning eye. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be.
Once again we settled in for a long ride. Because we had lost most of the day, we decided to change direction, skip National Bridges National Park and forge ahead to the Vermillion Cliffs at the The Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument in Utah – wandering ever closer to Zion.
Driving down Highway 40 — Old Route 66 — we both sang along with Nat to “Get Your Kicks on Route 66” I mean, how can you NOT, right?
Along the way, on the side of the road, were a couple of Navajo women selling jewelry. The tables were packed with handmade jewelry — turquoise, hematite, juniper beads, and baskets. I asked before I snapped, and got a big smile for the camera.
A pretty good haul, don’t you agree? I got a basket too, but forgot to take a pic.
Arriving in Page too late to locate a campground, we had our worst night EVER at Motel Sucks Six in Page, Utah at fake Lake Powell. Apparently, this was a busy time for Page, as all the hotels were booked. The fact that Motel Six had any room available was NOT a good sign.
My travel tip to everyone is to avoid this Motel Six if at all possible. Especially Room 239.
You’re welcome.
Next stop: Vermillion Cliffs!
Remembering: When I Got Up Close With Peter O’Toole
For a brief moment in time, I lived my life’s dream of being an actress.
I had an agent.
I even combined my love for writing with my desire to become the next Oscar winner and wrangled a real live Press Pass from the Theater Arts Guild (which I saved all these years and take out to weep on every so often as just another unrealized dream.)
One time, I interviewed Bob Hope and Connie Francis. By the way, funny as you think he was on stage, he was an absolute JERK behind the scenes. At least that’s what I observed as he demanded that his white Rolls Royce be driven underground at the Sports Arena where he was to appear with Connie Francis in a tribute to the military. There was such a small crowd that a near-panic ensued and busloads of Marines drove in to fill up the seats and save the day.
Anyhoo, I get that I was a nobody with a freshly minted press pass, but I did write for a legitimate publication and he didn’t have to be so rude and dismissive. I wrote an honest, authentic, and genuine piece, not a speck of fluff anywhere. I still have the article somewhere along with my press pass. One day I’ll rummage around in my box of broken dreams and post it.
From tiny on-screen moments on the beach in a bathing suit in Harry- O with David Janssen to my last shoot as a Costa Rican hooker in Deadly Desire with Jack Scalia, it seemed as if I had a calling. I even had a few bit parts with lines, although most of them ended up on the proverbial cutting room floor, so there’s nothing to be found on YouTube to document my star’s brief rise and fall.
Upon reflection, I’m not quite sure why I was typecast as a prostitute? Bimbo in a bikini? Oh well, another fantasy died, thanks to an abundance of wrinkles and hundreds of pockets of cellulite. Time marches on, right?
There was a time I had auditioned for a film that was shooting in San Diego, “Stuntman”, starring the great Peter O’Toole.
Me with Alex Rocco.Photo property of Enchanted Seashells
There I was, once again, a girl in a bikini, on the beach in La Jolla. (Nice abs, if I do say so myself.)
That’s where I met Peter O’Toole. Because we were right on the beach, it was a fairly egalitarian scene. It was fascinating for me to watch actors as they rehearsed their script outdoors — like Steve Railsback who kept going over his lines; “We’re losing the light, Chuck.” “Chuck, we’re losing the light” “We’re losing the damn light, Chuck!”
Photo courtesy of sandiegohistory.org
And then there was Mr. O’Toole as he was called, pretzeling his tall, extremely skinny body onto his special chair, one leg laconically tossed onto the arm as he half-sat, half-reclined — star power all the way — and he raised his voice, knowing that he’d command attention in less than two syllables, ” Where’s my coffee? I want my coffee HOT!” to all of the hovering assistants.
He was so thin that he showed us how he wore layers and layers of clothing — even in the summer — to give his body a little padding. (I heard Frank Sinatra did the same thing.)
I was way too cool to ask for an autograph; I wanted him to think of me as an equal; a fellow “actor”, not as a fawning sycophant.
All of us cute young barely clothed girls had an easy time as desired accessories around the set; we had more access to the celebrities, we watched them play chess or checkers or were even invited to eat lunch with them.
At the time, I thought that I was being singled out for my “specialness” and my acting skills; now I see that there was a darker and more exploitative side to what goes on behind the scenes. Trust me, the casting couch is alive and well in Hollywood.
But for me, it was all innocent, all good, all wholesome. I didn’t get drawn into any of the after-hours partying, didn’t make any bad choices in life or follow a destructive path.
My acting pursuits ended with the birth of the Angel Boy except for an inspiring portrayal of that Costa Rican hooker.
My very last line…”Te gusta, señor?” (“You like, Mister?”)
Act on, Mr. O’Toole. Break a leg. You are remembered and missed.
Related articles
- The Stunt Man (myoldaddiction2.wordpress.com)
- AS PETER O’TOOLE SAID IN THE STUNT MAN, “If God could do the things we can do, he’d be a happy man.”… (pjmedia.com)
Breaking News: See-Through Yoga Pants From Lululemon. Get ‘Em While They’re Hot!
This is one of my most searched for and read posts. I’m re-posting due to Lululemon’s wonderful new marketing campaign targeting female thigh size, and I wrote it just prior to the resignation of the CEO.
***I would like to apply for the probably newly opened position in public relations at Lululemon. I’m sure that I could think of fourteen thousand zillion OTHER ways to get your company some attention.
On another subject, I’m busy baking and cleaning and perfuming and ironing sheets for the imminent arrival of my MASTER CAPTAIN, also known as the most wonderful husband in the world.
ENJOY!
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Listen up, ladies!
Do I hear a WTF? A what-what?
Even in the midst of body conscious Suthern Caly-forn-eye-A, we who aspire to the “forever young” mantra know what yoga pants mean. They mean we don’t have to always think about holding it in, they mean we can EAT, they mean it HIDES imperfections and flaws while we are in pursuit of perfection, they mean we can — for the duration of the wearing of yoga pants –NOT be self-haters or ashamed of our silhouette in the reflection of a shop window.
At least that’s what yoga pants did for me. Until now, that is.
Did you think that all the attention you were getting at the gym or the grocery store or running errands was because your beauty was shining though and the universe was responding to your inner goodness and wit and intelligence?
WELL…maybe that’s true, but it could also have been this. Lululemon is recalling some of their yoga pants because of a teensy weensy transparency “issue”.
Yup, you can see through ’em.
Your (and my own) overpriced and overhyped little Lululelmon logo embellished workout wear lets it all hang out for the world to see.
According to a Lululemon company statement, the recall is due to “the coverage… resulting in a level of sheerness in some of our women’s black Luon bottoms that falls short of our very high standards.”
LOL.
The transparent pants, which resulted in a recall of 17% of product, are the fourth quality-control issue that Lululemon has had this year.
For the outrageous price of a Lululemon product, would it be too much to expect that they’re well-made?
Seventy percent of their clothing is manufactured in third-world countries with factories in China, Taiwan, South Korea, South America, Israel, Indonesia, Thailand and Vietnam.
The Lululemon website explains, “Global economic forces…have shifted manufacturing to more cost-attractive locations and resulted in closures of some domestic factories.”
Good times, y’all!
Instead of using the goddess-given benefits of Spandex to crunch and smash together all my cellulite into one hot tight mass of “muscle”, everything I DON’T want the world to see is OUT THERE. I’ve been OUTED.
Hell, even I don’t want to see that cottage cheese on the back of my legs. Now I have to be stressed out that YOU can see it, too?
And what’s worse? My confession? I don’t wear underpants under my workout gear. I hate panty lines; they just bother me. Now I learn that it’s all on display and I never knew it.
Apparently I’ve been giving it away for free, as my mom would have said. Not only my butt, my cellulite, and my C-section scar, but — oh joy –you can discover whether I’ve had a full Brazilian OR NOT.
i’m ashamed to say that I bought into the hype —which is huge in SoCal — and I’m gonna march myself right on to the Lululemon shop in La Costa at The Forum and hand them back so I can get my $79.00 plus tax put back on my credit card and hippity hop over to Target and buy several new very densely packed yoga/workout pants for about $25.00 each. A much better bargain and my girly parts and cellulite will stay private.
I don’t want to be indelicate, but I discovered that Lulus demonstrate an embarrassing explicitness in the female genitalia area that most would wish to avoid — unless you’re like Miley Cyrus or something.
I read online about several different girls who attempted to return a pair of pants at Lululemon and were forced to wear them and bend over to show that it was sheer to the employee.
That is so crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy. I think you prolly have a very good picture of what would happen if a salesperson insisted I bend over.
CHICK FIGHT CHICK FIGHT CHICK FIGHT!
Lululemon blames the manufacturere who says in response..”All shipments to Lululemon went through a certification process which Lululemon had approved. All the pants were manufactured according to the requirements set out in the contract with Lululemon,” [Eclat Chief Financial Officer Roger Lo.]
Lululemon CEO Christine Day replaced Lululemon founder Chip Wilson in 2007. Before that, she was an executive at Starbucks. She has been criticized for growing the company too fast with a resulting loss of quality.
I don’t want to put the hate on a woman at the helm of anything, but I think women in positions of ultimate power have a tendency to model themselves after males in similar positions and forget the wonderfulness of our gender.
Don’t try to mimic a male; instead, be the best HUMAN you can be.
Boys DO Make Passes at Girls Who Wear Glasses. Oh YES, They DO.
Newsflash: Eyeglasses are the new aphrodisiac.
Sasssy and sexxxxy in a slightly librarian-beeyotchy way.
That describes both me AND my new Kate Spade glasses, don’t you agree?
Aren’t those polka dots TDF?
And the hair? It looks like my head had a curl explosion.
Oopsie, it seems as if the picture on the wall behind me is slightly askew; my OCD side will fix it immediately, since I clearly have no control over my hair.
And yes, that IS my enchanting bathroom, and no, I’m not wearing any makeup.
It’s a different world now than when I first needed to wear glasses. Back then, it tolled the death knell if you aspired at all to be a popular gal and hang out with the cool kids.
I was continually taunted with.such witticisms as, “Hey, Coke-bottle‘s here. Ha Ha.”
Not so funny to be the target of mean girls.
I couldn’t wait to be old enough to wear contact lenses.
But now, wearing glasses is just another important fashion accessory, not a signal to the world that the wearer is a bookish nerd, not that there’s anything wrong with that!
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“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.”
Ghandi
Sign the Animal Bill of Rights! | Animal Legal Defense Fund
“That which we call a ROSE by another other name would smell as sweet.”
Was I named because of a love for Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet?
No.
Was I conceived after a my mom received a dozen roses from my dad?
No.
Was I named after a sled?
No.
Was I named for Rosebud Salve?
No, but I have a tin of the sweet stuff, a thoughtful gift from my son.
Where did my name come from?
Following the Jewish tradition of naming children after a deceased relation, I was given my paternal grandmother’s name.
Rosebud was my nickname, and is still used — infrequently — because, as I point out, the bloom is off the rose, and I am no longer a bud.
However, I do smell as sweet because I am an anomaly.
I have no body odor.
Never did.
I’ve never used deodorant and have never needed to use it.
It’s true.
Even after working out at the gym during an especially difficult Boot Camp class or after a couple of days hiking on a hot, dirty, dusty trail— I don’t smell bad AT ALL.
In fact, I smell sweet.
You can ask anyone.
“That which we call PRINCESS ROSEBUD by any other name would smell as sweet.”
And I DO.
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Romeo and Juliet
In Act II, Scene II of the play, the line is said by Juliet in reference to Romeo’s house, Montague which would imply that his name means nothing and they should be together.
Juliet:
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.Romeo:
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Juliet:
‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.Romeo:
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
by michelle w. on September 2, 2013
Do you know the meaning of your name, and why your parents chose it? Do you think it suits you? What about your children’s names?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us IDENTITY.
Trackbacks & Pingbacks
- When my granny was young | Bright Moments Catcher
- Natalie Elizabeth. | Natalie Elizabeth Beech
- S. Thomas Summers | Daily Prompt: Identity
- Name that… You! | Geek Ergo Sum
- What’s in a Name? « RPMAS
- What’s in a Name? | meanderedwanderings
- Facebook and Cheap Trick: I’d like you to like me | DCMontreal
- There’s no (censored) “D” in my name | thoughtsofrkh
- Daily Prompt: The Born Identity | Creative Mysteries
- MASIDO | Hellen Masido
- Phoneography Weekly: What lies under the bushes | We Live In A Flat
- Daily Prompt: Name that…You! « Mama Bear Musings
- What’s in a name? | Books, Music, Photography & Movies : my best friends
- Daily Prompt: Name that…You | Under the Monkey Tree
- daily prompt – what’s in a name? | pork juice & paper towels
- Daily Prompt: Name that… You! « Every day adventures in Asia (mostly)
- Daily Prompt: Name that… You! Five Js | littlegirlstory
- Daily Prompt; Name that..You | terry1954
- Daily Prompts | derekalanwilkinson
- Daily Prompt: Name that… You! | College Girl Dai
- Daily Prompt: Identity – It’s Maryann, Not Maryanne, Not Marianne | IF I ONLY HAD A TIME MACHINE
- What’s In A Name? | The Ambitious Drifter
- What’s In A Name? Ingredients | Edward Hotspur
- What’s in a name? | Hope* the happy hugger
- Naming Baby Brother (short fiction) | The Jittery Goat
Wolves, Bears, Bison, Moose, Elk, and more…
Please join me in stopping the insane murders of these magnificent creatures.
Hello!
We’re back from our journey — a circuitous route from SoCal to Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, and the Great Basin National Park.
I kept a journal to record every special moment of our vacation.
We hiked, we kayaked, we camped.
We were in a bison traffic jam.
The main purpose of our trip was to fulfill my desire to see wolves in the wild — and we were so lucky to view at least eight of the famous Lamar Valley wolf pack in Yellowstone, including the magnificent 755.
I’m even more passionate about stopping the ridiculous murder of wolves.
We met dedicated park rangers everywhere we went.
The Grand Tetons are AMAZING–we camped, hiked, and kayaked at Jenny Lake.
Our last day at the Great Basin National Park was breathtaking and exciting and scary — thunder, lightening, rain, hail, sleet, and snow; hiking at 10,000 feet. The temp went from the mid-eighties to low thirties in about an hour. AMAZING.
I’ll be downloading pics and writing about it all —
(We had tentative plans to meet up with another blogger in Idaho as we drove through, but we had stayed an extra day in the Tetons ‘cos it was so amazing and I was feeling kinda bad from the heat, so we couldn’t make it happen. Sorry, it would have been fun)
Related articles
- Two National Parks, Two Different Experiences: Days 8, 9, and 10: Yellowstone & the Tetons (letsjustgetinthecarandgo.wordpress.com)
- My Safari in Yellowstone National Park (theworldwidelifeofasouthernwife.wordpress.com)
- Waterhole at Lamar Valley (paperbackpacker.com)
Hiking in Julian
Broken wrist notwithstanding, it was time for a back-to-nature adventure; this time a seven plus-mile, four-hour walk.
We drove up to our local mountain to the beautiful and historic town of Julian to hike the Santa Ysabel Open Space Preserve, East End. The Cedar Fire in 2003 caused some damage that’s visible in a few burnt out trees, but most of it was spared.
To get to the starting point from Julian, drive two miles north on Farmer Road to Wynola Road, jog briefly right, and turn left to remain on Farmer Road. Continue 1.2 miles north to the Santa Ysabel Open Space Preserve staging area on the left.
Start heading west, alongside the upper reaches of Santa Ysabel Creek, on the Kanaka Loop Trail. This part of the trail doubles as a segment of the unfinished Coast to Crest Trail, which will ultimately stretch all the way to the coast at Del Mar. It would be so cool to hike that one day.
Right away you’ll notice cattle — as in COWS — grazing on the grassy hillsides overlooking the creek. Another not-quite-natural occurrence is the appearance of large flocks of wild turkeys. The 20,000 or so turkeys now roaming the Julian-Cuyamaca area descended from an initial population of about 300 that hunting enthusiasts animal murderers introduced in 1993.
I forgot my camera in the car, so here’s my embarassingly poor rendering of the cows and turkeys we saw.
Artist: Princess Rosebud …Don’t I draw like I’m five-years-old? Obviously, both sides of my brain are not evolved equally. It’s a good thing I don’t shop like I draw.
We saw sycamores, black oaks, and blackberry thickets. It’s a very active site for mountain lions – prints were everywhere along with a lot of coyote and mule deer scat.
The cows have an amazing playground; why they chose to sit in the middle of the trail along the entire route and either give us dirty looks or cause us to walk into the brush to get out of their way or in one case, CHASE US, I have no idea. They are VERY large and appear malevolent as if they know how big they are and were laughing with each other at my FEARFUL screams of “Go away, go away, shoo, shoo, get out of here, you stupid Cow!”
Geez, we don’t even eat meat, so they should have been extra nice to us, don’t you agree?
If I had my camera, I would have taken pics like this…
Other people’s pics
It was a beautiful hike, not too strenuous for my still-healing broken wrist, and we decided to drive the few miles into Julian and walk around like tourists. Julian is an old mining town and is quaint and cute. We went into a one hundred year old soda shop and had a yummy sarsaparilla.
Now I have my camera again.
We gave this guy a few dollars for his animal rescue, ‘cos his little mini-pony was adorable.
Our fun day ended with a stop at a farm stand. Twenty-five avocados for $5.00. Yay! Guess who’s making guacamole?
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 