Thursday, July 09, 2009

Christine's Day of Therapeutic Parenting

Thought I'd recap one of our fairly "heavy" days of attachment related challenges. A lot of you ask how our conversations play out. If you don't find this interesting or helpful, you will be bailing out rather quickly. It did not involve any rages or bodily fluids or cussing, but it's a long one, friends. Prepare yourself for typo's and rambling.

Today was thick, thick, THICK with sit-down discussions. Okay, so the whole week has been. I mean, we did tell our children we're moving in less than a month. I expected everyone to be on edge. I expected them to all start beating the crap out of one another, set the house on fire, sneak into my room at night and knock my teeth out with a hammer ... so I can be pleasantly surprised when it's not that bad.

I'll just lay it out to give you an idea. Remember, my attachment challenged kids are 12 and 9, one has graduated from attachment therapy and the other has seven months under her belt. We've been doing die-hard therapeutic parenting for 15 months. Adjust your radars accordingly.

Somewhere around 8:20 am, Rocky comes bouncing through the room (literally - I took note of his extreme happiness). He was already dressed. "Good morning, Mom!" Told him breakfast was on the table, all the fixin's for his toast, etc., etc.

About two minutes later he pops his head into the living room. "Mom, how long do I heat up the butter?"

"Rocky, how long do you always heat up the butter?"

Scrunches up nose, "Umm ... 15 seconds?"

"Honey, put the butter down and come in here to talk."

Now, to most people, this seems like a very NOT big deal. Yet, I know my son intimately. He softens up the butter to make it easier to spread about five times a week. It is always in the same dish. It is always heated up for 23 seconds. It's what we do around here. OH, and then there is the whole Mr. Happy Skippity Do-Dah that greeted me.

It was a set-up.

"So, what was that all about?"

Hem-haw. Hem-haw. Huffing. Puffing. Kept repeating the question. I keep things very simplified when we are working through these questions and talking about feelings. He stated he was in a bad mood when he woke up. "Hmmm ... well you greeted me with a smile and hop in your step. Was that a set-up?" Yes, it was. Okay, so why did he play dumb with the butter.

When I say I keep things simple, I mean SIMPLE! We approach one question at a time. We break-down the behaviors based on the feelings behind them. Our kids are masters at chasing rabbits, changing the subject and getting us verbally distracted. I stick with one question. Sometimes, when we finally get to the heart of it, I will actually write it down to help keep me focused with all the dodging. "Yes, you have said that already. See, it's right here on my paper. Of course, then there are the other 400 times you just kept repeating it."

I always remember that their tricks make them feel safe. When you call them out on things like the happy set-up and the butter Dumb Game, they feel like you have stripped them naked and told them to dance on fire. I say things like, "Let's talk again about how safe you are, how loved you are." That is when I do chase a rabbit. "Are you safe here? How do you know? Tell me about Dad. What about me? What are your favorite things about your sister?"

I break up the big talks with lots of reminders as to the truths in their lives: they are safe and they are loved.

So, after a good 45 minutes of working through feelings and having lots of breaks to talk about the great things in our lives, and help him re-regulate his brain and find his smile ... this was the breakdown:

He woke up with a plan to act very happy and then find a way to act dumb. Hopefully I would fall for it. Internally, this would make him feel very powerful. He felt completely out of control, because the day before we had a sit-down and discussed how he gets uncomfortable around his Dad, especially when he has been out of town (Rocky is the "man of the house" and then Dad returns). We "rewinded" to let him tell us about other times in his life when he felt powerless. Who were the men or boys who have bullied him? Etc., Etc.

Yes, the butter thing was from the day before. This is how our sweet kids have to live. When they feel vulnerable, they cannot stop thinking about it until they find a way to feel they have regained some amount of control.

I then cleared the coffee table and used random objects to tell Rocky the Nancy Thomas story about the boy and the frozen lake. Of course, I told it very visually, and in a way which would help him understand why we put such a priority on some things. We had a great discussion, and I was able to share how this story also helps Dad and I better understand him, as well.

We finished up just before 9:30 am. He was smiling, regulated and the butter was plenty soft at that point. :)

Still with me?

Several little controlling things with Mar. I would have her come over to the sofa and stay until she felt strong enough to hop back into what everyone was doing. This has worked well for her over the last few days. Just by saying it out loud, it will no longer help her in a positive way, and I'll need to switch it up. Ah well.

It was about 100 degrees today. Mar had on jeans. She had waited too long to do her laundry, so there were no shorts. In the car, as we were driving to pick up Dad for lunch, she started to bemoan "having" to wear the jeans. "Hmmm ... that's interesting. Why is it again that you must wear those jeans today." She was not feeling to strong in that moment. Said something about needing to wear them so she could "get them out of the way," as if she is forced to wear everything in her closet before she can start over a new rotation or something. It was quite whopper, I must say. That gal thinks on her feet.

Anywho, with some Christine humor (translation: "Our mom thinks she's funny, but she's just embarrassing"), I helped her rewind that story and try it again, with some actual reality. She found me neither funny nor embarrassing. She was able to pull it back together, though, with some pizza.

There was some back-and-forth between she and her younger sister. This has been building for a few days, so I decided to make it easy and put them on restriction from talking to one another for the rest of the day. In the car on the way home, little sister was hoping Mar would be in a mischievous mood and try to whisper with her. Mar, instead, was in a rat-out-little-sister mood. Sucked for little sister.

This did, however, beautifully separate out my one child who is too young to go to the pool alone. Decided to let the older four spend two hours swimming sans Mom. Knew Mar would have the hardest time. Talked through it. She really wanted to try, and was verbalizing the things which would tempt her to be a toot misbehave. She and her big sister made a plan, in case she found herself stressed. We decided to give it a go. The worst that could happen would be Mar wigging out, and one of the other kids calling me to come get her. She had three other sets of eyes around her, and she does well with family, because she knows that we all know what to expect.

So, there was really only one mishap at the pool. It did, however, cross a line into one of our house rules. Mar is not allowed to play, unsupervised, with any children younger than her, and no boys - whatsoever (except for her brothers, who also happily rat-her-out if she gets out of line). She spent most of her formative years in an orphanage. We are having to reteach her appropriate behavior and social interactions. She chose to splash a boy and girl sitting on the side of the pool. Then, when Mac called her on it, she swore it was just because of the way she swims. :)

Well, the second I got my little report from big sister, and was told she splashed "two strangers," I knew one of them was a boy. Took a sit-down of very simplistic questions and lots of reminders and safety and love before she chose to get to the heart of it. This is a very painful subject for her lately. She is starting to feel some remorse for her bullying and lack of self-control - thus the tough boundaries and restrictions. Even though we talked it through, it was just too much for her.

And many people may think, "What's the big deal?" Oh, how I wish it wasn't. How I wish she already had a solid foundation socially and emotionally. She doesn't. We have to build it. We have backed up to "ground zero" and just slowly reintroduce certain situations as she heals. Our talk ended with Mar smiling, but I knew she wasn't regulated. Her arms were stiff. She was still fairly robotic. Yet, with her, she's just not well enough to move as deeply into her feelings, as her brother is. She needed a break.

"Mom, would you like me to start the dryer for you?"

"Sure, honey." I knew this was a set-up. It was so painfully obvious. It was RIGHT after our talk. I just let it play out. Sure enough. She set the timer wrong and barely caught the door latch, so it stopped running after about three minutes. I walked into the kitchen and just lifted my eyebrows. She got huffy fast! "WHAT? I started the dryer! WHAT?" Funny. I didn't say a word about the dryer. heh. heh. Yet, what she needed in that moment was to cool down. I asked her to go out on the back porch and take some deep breaths - not to come back in until she felt a little bit better.

Took her about five minutes. We had a lot to talk through, so I had us sit down in a way where I would be a bit lower than her. She is allowing herself to talk about some new things, so I'm trying to respect this fresh pain. I did something I've been holding onto for a bit. Walked her through this song (we have it on a really old CD in the car, but she never knew the words):



We would pause with every phrase and talk about it. Would look up words in the dictionary she didn't know. Oh my cow, was this a good experience for her. I wish you could have all crawled inside my head and witnessed it with me. She still holds onto the lie that she is "bad." She does believe there is a God, but she feels like God is probably mad at her or ashamed of her ... disappointed. A little nugget which might be helpful to some of your kids.

OKAY - so this ended about 4:30 pm. The boys had been reading an Archie comic and giggling like girls. The other two gals were trying to sell some of their artwork to kids in the neighborhood (really - and it worked - Mac made 75 cents). Life doesn't stop for therapeutic parenting. If someone else needs me, we take a quick break - whatever. It's just who we are and what we do. When something comes up, we stop, drop and roll-with-it right then if at all possible.

Husband comes home after 5 pm. He recaps his day. I recap mine. Sooooo, around 6 pm he tells me to get my butt in the bath so he can reheat leftovers for the kids. I happily oblige.

When I re-emerge, he smiles at me and says, "Rocky is waiting for me at the kitchen table." Hmmmm ... guess who tried to play dumb with Dad, having mom so beautifully out of the way? Had it worked, then it would have fed that lie which says, "You are still not safe and you must gain back control." The Rockster has some favorite little games (like addicts have a drug of choice, I think our kids have some games of choice). Just two weeks ago we started working on this particular favorite. He will use poor grammar on purpose. Again - one of those things that sounds like no big deal to the average reader. Yet, it is his way of getting an adult to believe he doesn't necessarily know the correct thing to say. This helps him feel like he has the upper hand, because he was able to doop a grown-up. Dad asked, "So, what's going on?" Rocky replied, "Good."

One of his ABSOLUTE favorite things. We've let this go for 15 months. Just hit on it recently. So, he was really, really hoping to pull it over on Dad.

Not so much. This convo when much more quickly, because he and I had already had the discussion earlier in the day. Dad and I were able to be quite the comedians as we worked our way through it. It all came back around to us knowing the truth about how he feels intimidated by Dad. We gave him some phrases to give him more control when he feels threatened by dad's voice. Sometimes it is when he is using a firm correcting voice, and sometimes it's just when Rocky is feeling extremely vulnerable. Either way, we practiced saying, "Dad, could you change your voice?" Role played some possible scenarios. Of course, Dad changed his voice to all sorts of high-pitched concoctions. Silliness rules.

Then all the kids - except Presh, who had continued to be her very delightful self all day - went out with Dad to set off the last of the fireworks. Just as the last one was going off, Andy-Roon started yelping. Mar, in her "fright" was smashing into her brother. Dad called it. She started to fuss. He said, "Just head on inside. It's almost bedtime anyway." I was able to enjoy the robot walk into her bedroom. Dad made a joke once he was inside, though, and she lightened right up. Probably just wanted to make sure no one had forgotten about her.

Who knows? She may do something tomorrow to pay Dad back for it.

So, there ya' go ... a typical Thursday, bathed in the stress of an upcoming move.

Still don't think a black president is a big deal?

I actually had a dream last night that I was Obama's personal assistant. I had been Brunson's assistant years ago, and in my dream, that meant I automatically became Obama's. The President was actually quite impressed he was getting the infamous pastor's previous assistant - apparently, I was quite a catch (Side note: who wants to make my mental connections there, between mega church pastor's and the presidency ... heh. heh.).

Okay, so back to my original intent.

I am so happy that there are people who never see the racism which still exists. Yet, it does. My kids have experienced it, and continue to. In some places, it is still very, very thick.

IT IS A BIG DEAL!


View more news videos at: http://www.nbcphiladelphia.com/video.



Wednesday, July 08, 2009

Our move, straight from the horse's mouth

My husband, being the horse. At least I referred to his MOUTH. :)

This is the note he has sent out to a lot of friends. I simply had to post it. Most of you don't know my guy, and I thought you would enjoy "reading" his heart.

He's pretty yummy, to boot.


*************************************************

Last night, during the Sunday evening worship service, I announced that I will be stepping down as pastor of First Baptist Church in Blackwell, OK .

I know this might come as a shock to some of you. And I’m sure that your first reaction is to assume that there is something bad that has happened. But nothing could be further from the truth.

The truth is: this is a very positive step for me and my family.

For some time now, Christine and I have been feeling led by God to do ministry in a completely different way than we have done it all of our lives. For the first time in my 41 years on this earth, and my 20 years in church ministry, God is asking me to step away from the traditional model of the church.

We will continue to serve Him and lead out in ministry. We will continue to love and serve God, and love and serve others. We simply will not be doing this in and from the typical setting of the traditional model of the church.

When I think about the type of ministry approach that Christine and I are feeling led to – the closest thing I can compare it to is something similar to what a missionary might experience. We feel like we are answering a missionary-type calling, and we are being asked to fund our own way.

Part of our journey has involved God convicting us to live and serve Him in such a way that does NOT require us to live off of the tithes and offerings of others. This means that we feel that we should step away from church-staff positions. We feel called to a missionary-type life style, yet we do not feel led to partner with a mission board, because that would require us to live off of the tithes and offerings of others, as well.

So, this means that we have had to figure out a way for me to make a living and provide for my family in a way I’ve never done before! In other words, we have spent the last several weeks exploring different types of secular employment! In addition to this, we felt very strongly that if we left the church in Blackwell, that we should also leave Blackwell. The last thing we’d want to do is tempt others to pull away from FBC to join what we’re doing and hurt the church in the process.

So, long-story-short, we have finalized plans to purchase an RV Park in south Texas , near a small town named Gonzales. We will be closing on July 31, and my last Sunday at FBC will be July 26. The RV Park will be our new jobs – our source of income. We will continue to be a part of the Body of Christ – loving and serving God, loving and serving others.

The most challenging part of this journey for me is leaving what I have known – and have been comfortable with – all of my life. Plus, God has taught me a great deal about what it means to truly “walk by faith.” The bottom line is: if the road is easy and all of your questions are answered ahead of time, then where does faith enter in? For us, the road ahead is still filled with mystery, and a little bit of uneasiness. I can’t tell you what our lives and ministry efforts will even look like in 3-4 months from now. I just know that we’ll continue to love and serve God, and love and serve others.

I know this is a lot to absorb, but I wanted you to know what is going on in our lives. Please feel free to holler at me down the road -

Michael Moers

No, really, we're not mad at anyone!

For those of you who "know church" ... imagine telling your church you are leaving ... to give away your lives ... in a secular job.

Three guesses as to the big questions you get over an over again.

"Someone made you mad?" "I didn't know things were so bad?" "Is it church politics?" "Do we need to have a business meeting? What do we need to do so you will stay?"

It's hard to convince people we are just as sad to leave as they are to see us go. Also hard to help them understand we are not leaving "the pastorate." We are not leaving "ministry." In fact, we're diving deeper.

If we said, "We feel called to Zambia, where we will be working as local farmers, and will be partnering with the International Mission Board," the questions would not be there. Reminds me of how people ask where we "got Presh." When I tell them, "Waco," their faces sink a bit. They were expecting "Africa." It would somehow seem bigger and more impressive and exotic.

We're moving to Gonzales, Texas and we will own and operate an RV park 11 miles outside of town, in a tiny, little clump of community, where 90% of people live in a manufactured home, because the rental prices are a bit cheaper out there than they are in town.

WHY Gonzales? Good question. We just asked God to make it very, very clear, and he did. We would have gone to Zambia. We were willing to go anywhere, and he said "Gonzales."

So, no, REALLY, we are not mad ... at anyone. Well, okay, okay - outside of the normal annoyances we all have with each other (and I KNOW people could make a list about me!). But really - WE ARE NOT MAD. We are not running from anything.

We feel pulled to something ... not pushed away from here.

In fact, we are grieving this loss. I really thought we would all die here. Really. We never, ever wanted to be in a different church, a bigger church, etc. We absolutely adore our town. We adore the people. The kids have about 30 sets of surrogate grandparents, as well as oodles of friends. My husband has some of the most amazing and encouraging men in his life. I have the wackiest and most diverse group of women surrounding me.

We love it here!

And we will love it there.

This is hard on my family. It is hard, because we adore Blackwell, Oklahoma. We adore the people who gather and call themselves the "First Baptist Church." They are our family. They have held us up as we grew our family this past year. They brought us bread and eggs and sent cards, even when they couldn't quite grasp or understand how difficult it was to do therapeutic parenting. We all sharpen one another.

Good LORD. They love and accept me! If that right there doesn't tell you a lot about them, I don't know what does. I'm quirky. I'm weird. My sense of humor is whacked out. For Pete's sake, their pastor's wife blogs about her sex life!

And they love me - just exactly as I am - even when they don't necessarily like me.

I don't recall any of the disciples throwing down their nets and saying, "Oh, THANK YOU! This place SUCKS!"

It's a strange feeling: excitement mixed with mourning.

We're trying to help everyone understand that this isn't the typical "Pastor is leaving because ..." fill-in-the-blank with words like "deacons," "committees" or "burned out." This isn't typical, because our relationships here are not typical. We are moving away from our family.

We also realize they are grieving, too. That is also why we told them the very day we knew this was a done-deal. Told our kids that afternoon, and Michael went straight up that Sunday night to let everyone know. We all needed every second of time we could get to work through this together: the excitement mixed with mourning.

Are we mad at someone? That's almost funny, because it absolutely could not be more opposite from the truth and the reality of this place and the hold it has in our hearts.

Tuesday, July 07, 2009

Yoo-hooo! RAD Moms!

We've all been there. Hop over and encourage Leslie. Better yet, leave a comment and let her friends know what she needs from them. She's stuck in the "Special Needs Bubble."

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week



(photo by one of my readers, Catharine - you can check out her photography at Bliss Photography)









You can submit your photo and a link to your website: christinemoers [at] hotmail [dot] com

Sunday, July 05, 2009

GREAT BIG GIANT NEWS!

We’re moving.

And we bought an RV park.

Okay … just kidding.

Nope. Wait. NO I’M NOT!

We bought a friggin’ RV park and we are moving in about a month.

Told ya – BIG news. Allow me to explain.

As things go in my life, we are always praying, “What is it you want to be doing with us?” God always answers that prayer … always. In fact, I picture His eyes lighting up as he says, “Suh-weet! I’ve got all SORTS of things you can be doing!’

It was just over a year ago when I was helping my in-laws with their motel as they settled into retirement. Michael and I saw first-hand how his parents poured their lives into so many people for almost three decades. There was a constant revolving door of guests, all walking their own path through life, and many who may have been seeking a vacation, but really needed someone to just listen. It was beautiful. It was also exhausting and back-breaking and sometimes a total pain in the kiester.

We got them retired, and we brought two more children into our home and we pretended we had done all the really crazy things God might be asking of us for quite some time. Patted ourselves on the back, and settled into our new routine of the crazy-fun RAD rollercoaster.

That’s when I did it. I prayed it again. God has always moved us into different challenges in different seasons. We turned a corner and I belted a big, “What is it you want to be doing with us now? Anything new?”

Fast forward a few months. I know some of you “get it.” Some of you are dumbfounded. Yet, after praying and talking and listening and more praying and more talking and more listening (repeat, repeat, repeat), we knew we were to be pulling a Paul & Barnabas. God was telling us over and over again we were to earn our wages by our own hands, so that we can give our lives away to people freely (emphasis on the “free” part).

This isn’t something which happened in our lives overnight. Just like every other crazy aspect, it has been years in the making. We have spent more than a decade slowly simplifying our lives so we could give more (not just money, but time), to the people in our lives. In the middle of all the praying and talking and listening, my husband and I continued to connect over and over again. Our thought processes were completely in sync (and, YES, I’m sure that thoroughly frightened him). We knew we were absolutely supposed to be doing something where we provided for all of our financial obligations ourselves so we could literally give ourselves away … but what?

And this is when the weeks of helping his parents reentered our hearts. We put out a few “feelers” … knowing we were in no hurry, whatsoever.

Oh … sorry … had to stop and laugh out loud for just a second. We know better than to say we’re “in no hurry.” Because – BOOM!

There was this little RV park looking for a new owner. It was the perfect size. The company’s site revealed very little identifying information. We just knew it was somewhere in the southern United States. About a seven state area. That was it. Could have been Oklahoma. Could have been Arkansas. Who knew?

Come to find out, it is less than two hours from my in-laws. Closer to my parents. Closer to Michael’s sister. Closer to Presh’s birthmom and brother. It is also nestled in a really tiny community of people on a highway in south Texas.

And in 13 years of marriage, the constant small changes and sacrifices we have made put us in a position to do something like this in the middle of a recession. And God said, “Yes, please.”

Told ya’ – BIG news.

So, consider yourselves in the loop. I will give more details later, but right now we have a lot of mourning and crying to do, seeing how we adore our church and our town and our neighbors. Our children are very excited, and very, very sad. This part suuuuuuuuuuuucks.

Our new venture will probably begin early August. Mark your calendars. You realize, don’t you, that for less than $30 a night you can park your RV and pick my RAD-mom brain ALL. DAY. LONG?? You can bring your kids, and every time you raise your voice I can punch you in the arm – it’s a free perk of the park! The Christine Moers Punch-a-Parent Seminar.

Seriously, though. We will be in the business of giving to our guests whatever they need … whether it is quiet or support or encouragement or laughs or to be left the heck alone. Our lives will be very, very simple, and yet very, very rich (well, and let's not forget: very, very sweaty).

Here’s my personal take on the old hymn, “I Surrender All” – it has been a constant on my breath lately.

Crazy ... crazy, crazy


Happy holiday weekend.

Crazy things going on here. I will catch you all up soon. Not RAD-related, which is good (I mean, that's still there, but we've got plenty of crazier things to keep us occupied ... really).

Had a good time giving my children explosives and fire over the past two days. We discovered some very important scientific truths during our escapades. For instance, your father's Star War's characters (made back when they KNEW how to make toys) can withstand firecrackers blowing up under their butts. Yet the same firecrackers will dismember a Polly Pocket. Seriously. Try it.

Anywho, thought I'd share a pic of my favorite people. If I have ignored your email or phone call, I love you and I'm very sorry. It's not you - it's me. More info to come soon.

Saturday, July 04, 2009

Lest we forget ...

I get in the middle of life, and I forget.

I watch the kids playing with their Webkinz, and I forget.

I get really, really annoyed by some nonsense chatter, and I forget.

I find myself immune to the little bitty controlling behaviors throughout the day, and I forget.

Then, my son starts to act out. I know to "rewind" and help him back up so he can tell me what it was that triggered these feelings. He talked about a friend who wanted to fight him. They had a scuffle. By no means is my child ever 100% innocent in such a situation, but this particular kid took a position of power and was not backing down. Usually my son orchestrates his life so he always has an edge and feels in control (certainly not healthy or healing, but it's his long-ingrained survival mechanism). As my son talked about it, I watched him slip into a flashback. His breathing changed. His fists wadded up. He could not sit still. There were tears mixed with a look which wanted to kill. That one altercation brought back the abuse. He saw the same look in that child's eyes he used to see in the face of his abuser. Talking about it was too much. His feelings were so mixed - he wants to hang out with friends, but he also had feelings that we abandoned him and did not keep him safe. He wants both of those things. All of these thoughts and feelings are still swirling.

I forget.

The same day (because when it rains, is pours), my daughter was pushing some limits with our house rules. I had noticed it over the past two weeks with all of our travel and change of location and schedule. So, we had a sit-down. Not only did she admit she was trying to soften the limits so she could slip back into some previous behaviors, but she also talked about pain in her past. These are things she has glossed over before to protect herself. Not this time. In her very limited way, she told me - for the very first time - how certain things continue to haunt her and hurt her deeply. It rocked my world. As long as she was in denial, I could be, as well! It was gut-wrenching to realize how very real and horrible this was for her. So confusing. So very, very painful.

I forget.

Later that night I sat alone. I closed my eyes. I imagined someone taking my children and doing those things to them NOW ... making them experience them right NOW. For some reason it is easier to forget when it is in the past and we were not even woven into their lives at that point. I cried, because I had to stop thinking through the pain continuously. I was too much for ME. Knowing if it happened today, they would cry out for me. Yet, in reality, they went through these things feeling completely alone - not even knowing any other way to feel. It was HORRIBLE, but I felt like I had to take myself to this horrible place, for my children. Their brains take them there regularly.

I tried to count all of the losses they experienced. Some I knew. Some I had to guess. Even then, I think I didn't come close to their reality.

So, on this typical American, long holiday weekend, I am not going to forget.




reactive attachment disorder

Thursday, July 02, 2009

Well, you see, kids ...



When a man and a woman love each other very much, and the man's prostate is enlarged, or he drinks too much ...

"Mom, what is 'male enhancement?'"

Asks one of my daughters as all five kids are watching LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE at 9:12 am! What amazes me is how I know advertisers do heavy research on WHEN to place their ads. Apparently, this is a prime spot for such products.

Of course, you know me. I'll talk about anything.

"Well, it has to do with penises and sex. Would you guys like to stop and talk about it now or finish the show."

Knowing I will answer any and all questions ... it was a rousing, "WATCH THE REST OF THE SHOW!!"

ha!

Should make for some entertaining discussion over dinner.



Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Magical Milk Pic-o-the-Week



(photo by Time Inc. Vietnamese refugee, December 1953)





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