Category Archives: Uncategorized

A Note From our Father

This turned my day around today.

A facebook friend, Janet, had it posted.

I felt compelled to share.

In a world of much uncertainty one thing is true, God knows everything about you: everything you have ever done; everything you have ever said; and every thought you have ever had. He is an awesome God! Here is a love letter to you.

 

My Child,

You may not know me, but I know everything about you (Psalm 139.1)

I know when you sit down and when you rise up (Psalm 139.2)

I am familiar with all your ways (Psalm 139.3)

Even the very hairs on your head are numbered (Matthew 10.29-31)

For you were made in my image (Genesis 1.27)

In me you live and move and have your being (Acts 17.28)

For you are my offspring (Acts 17.28)

I knew you even before you were conceived Jeremiah (1.4-5)

I chose you when I planned creation (Ephesians 1.11-12)

You were not a mistake, for all your days are written in my book (Psalm 139.15-16)

I determined the exact time of your birth and where you would live (Acts 17.26)

You are fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139.14)

I knit you together in your mother’s womb (Psalm 139.13)

And brought you forth on the day you were born (Psalm 71.6)

I have been misrepresented by those who don’t know me (John 8.41-44)

I am not distant and angry, but am the complete expression of love (1 John 4.16)

And it is my desire to lavish my love on you (1 John 3.1)

Simply because you are my child and I am your Father (1 John 3.1)

I offer you more than your earthly father ever could (Matthew 7.11)

For I am the perfect father (Matthew 5.48)

Every good gift that you receive comes from my hand (James 1.17)

For I am your provider and I meet all your needs (Matthew 6.31-33)

My plan for your future has always been filled with hope (Jeremiah 29.11)

Because I love you with an everlasting love (Jeremiah 31.3)

My thoughts toward you are countless as the sand on the seashore.(Psalms 139.17-18)

And I rejoice over you with singing (Zephaniah 3.17)

I will never stop doing good to you (Jeremiah 32.40)

For you are my treasured possession (Exodus 19.5)

I desire to establish you with all my heart and all my soul Jeremiah (32.41)

And I want to show you great and marvellous things (Jeremiah 33.3)

If you seek me with all your heart, you will find me (Deuteronomy 4.29)

Delight in me and I will give you the desires of your heart (Psalm 37.4)

For it is I who gave you those desires (Philippians 2.13)

I am able to do more for you than you could possibly imagine (Ephesians 3.20)

For I am your greatest encourager (2 Thessalonians 2.16-17)

I am also the Father who comforts you in all your troubles (2 Corinthians 1.3-4)

When you are broken-hearted, I am close to you (Psalm 34.18)

As a shepherd carries a lamb, I have carried you close to my heart (Isaiah 40.11)

One day I will wipe away every tear from your eyes (Revelation 21.3-4)

And I’ll take away all the pain you have suffered on this earth (Revelation 21.3-4)

I am your Father, and I love you even as I love my son, Jesus (John 17.23)

For in Jesus, my love for you is revealed (John 17.26)

He is the exact representation of my being (Hebrews 1.3)

He came to demonstrate that I am for you, not against you (Romans 8.31)

And to tell you that I am not counting your sins (2 Corinthians 5.18-19)

Jesus died so that you and I could be reconciled (2 Corinthians 5.18-19)

His death was the ultimate expression of my love for you (1 John 4.10)

I gave up everything I loved that I might gain your love (Romans 8.31-32)

If you receive the gift of my son Jesus, you receive me (1 John 2.23)

And nothing will ever separate you from my love again (Romans 8.38-39)

Come home and I’ll throw the biggest party heaven has ever seen (Luke 15.7)

I have always been Father, and will always be Father (Ephesians 3.14-15)

My question is “Will you be my child?” (John 1.12-13)

I am waiting for you (Luke 15.11-32)

June 12th

Today, J-Dub and I celebrate 7 years of wedded bliss.

He claims it’s only feels like 30 minutes.
Underwater.

He also informed me a few moments ago that my corn-on-the-cob is always kinda tough.  Evidently I cook it wrong.  According to Google, you should boil the water first, then add the corn, return to a boil, cover, turn off the heat and let sit for 15 minutes.

Who knew?

I just throw it all in there and let it boil together. 

Today we honored our love by napping the afternoon away.  I did, anyway. 

Soon we will enjoy a tender steak on the grill with tough corn-on-the-cob.  Then watch Cheers reruns until snores fill the living room.  Mine, of course.

Naturally, seven years is not a great accomplishment, we haven’t reached our silver, golden, or even aluminum milestone, but in this day and age, I’d like to think we’re doing okay.  I asked my sweet beloved what advice he would give others for achieving marital bliss.  He answered, “I don’t know what that is.”

But he came up with a few:

1) Laugh alot—-at each other’s expense.
2)  Say “Yes Dear” often.
3) Come to the blinding realization that your twinkies are her twinkies too, so coming home to the last twinkie wrapper crumbled on the counter is just tough nookies.
4)  Realize you can’t win.
5) Never criticize her cooking.  (Oops)

All jokes aside, marriage can be a wonderful union full of rich rewards.  It takes sacrifice and unselfishness.  Giving of yourself to another and enjoying the ride.

And eating the tough corn-on-the-cob.

Book Recommendation

Summer in the Texas Panhandle has descended upon us and is pummeling us with her hot, grubby fists.  Yesterday I believe the mercury rose to 106.  I don’t have my pool yet.  The problem lies in deciding where to put it. 

Do I:

a) put it in the backyard fully covered by a fence with absolutely no grass and let it become a mucky, muddy, mess? 

b) put it outside of the fence-shielded backyard and run the risk of passersby seeing me in my string bikini? 

c)  quit my crazy dreaming that I’ll ever wear a bikini again as long as I live.

You know what’s crazy?  Even when I could’ve worn a bikini, I didn’t.  I always have been self-conscious of myself in a bathing suit.  Still am, but so is 98% of all the other women out there.  The other 2%, I’m sure you’ve seen them too.

Since my swimming pool is not up and ready, and it was too hot to be outside for this delicate flower, I decided to hole up yesterday and read.  I spent my day reading Heaven is For Real and I must give it 2 thumbs up.

Heaven is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back [Book]

It is written by Todd Burpo whose not yet four-year old son undergoes an emergency appendectomy and months later begins to relate to his family about his trip to heaven. 

Being the staunch skeptic that I am, I read the book with, well, skepticism.  And lots of it.  Because that’s how I roll.  But by the end of the book, I was convinced this young man really experienced the things he claimed to have experienced.

It’s an easy read.  It’s a can’t-put-it-down kind of book.  It’s a book you shouldn’t keep, but should pass on to someone else.  It gives hope.  It answers questions.  It causes the doubting Thomas’s of the world (like me) to have faith in things they haven’t seen and believe that others are blessed to get to see them.

If you’re a reader, you should read it.  And if you’re not a reader, you should read it.  It’s worth it.

And since I didn’t do a blasted thing yesterday except read and eat and sleep, today I must crack the whip at myself and get some things accomplished.

But first, I just thought of one good thing about it being so hot. 
I didn’t see a snake yesterday!
I stayed in the cool and they did too.

Cheers,

Angel

 

 

Peace, Quiet, Serenity, and other lies of Living in the Country

 
 
 
 
 

 We’ve all seen the magazine pictures.  The quaint farmhouse set on a hill with rolling green meadows and white rail fencing.  We imagine the serenity, the peace that we could experience if we could just get away from the city.  The hustle and bustle, the horns and sirens. 

But put a trailer house out in the middle of the windy, hot, dusty, dry Texas Panhandle and you get a whole ‘nother atmosphere.

Yesterday Manic Depression plagued me.  My neurosis of the day for June 7 is Fear and Anxiety.  Really I was doing just fine until the snake incident a couple of days ago.  Now I tiptoe gingerly everywhere I go.  If a feather breezes across my path,  I jump a foot.  And then there was the fire today which set me into a nervous dither.

  I was piddling about the house this morning wearing an apron.  Well not JUST an apron, but an apron over my clothes (hoping that would inspire me to clean) when I began to hear sirens.  Weird with a capital W.  I glanced out the window and saw a couple of firetrucks whiz by which caused an elevation in heart rate due to the fact that we are in a major drought with wind gusts upwards of 40 mph.

More sirens, more window peeking.  I then decide to go outside so I can see what is happening on the highway that runs parallel to my house.  The sky is dirty. It could be dust or it could be smoke.  The traffic slows and then stops from both directions.  A highway patrol passes.  A Department of Transportation vehicle passes.  It could be a wreck or it could be a fire.   I make a few phone calls, to my Sister-in-law who has a scanner but knows nothing, to the Sheriff’s office which confirms a fire, but mostly panicked pleas to my husband’s voicemail.  In a matter of a very few minutes I contemplate how I’m going to get my dogs and my chickens evacuated, checking off a list of important items to grab:   i.e. computer hard drive, a few photos, my wedding ring, and my husband’s handmade cowboy boots.   And then decide in order to quit worrying, I’ll just go right to the source, so I walk across the road to where the nearest fire truck is parked and question the fireman if I indeed need to be calling my insurance company within the next half hour.  I was reassured that everything was under control and my biggest problem would be getting back across the highway since they have now released the traffic.  So I did just that.  I darted across the highway and thanked God for his mercy.

Fast forward 10 hours. 

I’m piddling around the house, this time without an apron, when my husband says, “I’m going to do chores.”

“I’m going with you.”  I announce.

Chores around here consist of feeding and watering horses and dogs.  I’ve got the chickens set up to only need care about once a week. 

This is an old walk-in cooler or something that was here on the place when we bought it.  Yes, it’s an eyesore, but so is everything else around here so we’ve come to love it.  Plus, it makes a very efficient feed room.  Rats and mice cannot enter and it’s just the right size to store all the sacks of feed and buckets necessary.
 
J-Dub and I go out and began our evening chores while our two dogs Drew and Grace follow along, searching and sniffing.
Suddenly, I notice Drew is very intent on smelling underneath the “feed room”.  I call to him and he ignores me.  I’ve seen him sniff out a possum from under a porch before and he is in exactly the same stance and frame of mind as the aforementioned possum massacre.  I call to him again.
 
“Leave him alone,” my husband tells me. 
“There’s something under there,” I answer.
By this time, our other dog Grace has joined Drew in the excited sniffing and smelling escapade that is taking place.
“It’s probably a rabbit,” says Jason, “Let them be dogs.”
 
When all of a sudden, the body of the something that is under the feedroom comes into view.  And once again, for the 3rd time in about 3 days I get to see yet another snake.  Only this one is a behemoth, a mammoth, curled under the “feed room”.  My husband begins his investigation of the kind of snake lurking and I begin my departure.  Slowly backing away and taking the extreme long way around.  After my husband throws a rock at it, to get it to move so he can see it better, I hear this sound that can only be a rattler to the untrained ear (mine). 
“It’s a rattlesnake!” I exclaim. 
“No it’s not.  It’s just a bull snake.  He’s opening his mouth and hissing as me,”  my husband informs as he is hunkered down peering under the feedroom.
 
And then it was over.  The dogs were called back into the yard, my husband continues his feeding, and I am about to crawl out of my skin.
 
My husband doesn’t kill bull snakes.  My husband only kills rattlers.  Bull snakes are “good” snakes if ever a snake were to be found.  They eat rodents.  They’ve been known to eat rattlesnakes.  They eat chicken eggs, but never mind that. 
Fear grips my body as the realization that I am living with a den of snakes, one of which is likely the mother to the other and has hatched a whole passel of eggs, and will continue to do so.  And there’s nothing I can do about it seeing as how hard a time I had killing a baby one. 
 
Acting as calmly as possible, I carry on a conversation with J-Dub as we water the yard.
“So, that snake bites, yes?”
“Yes, but it’s not poisonous and it won’t bite unless you’re provoking it.”
“So,”  I pause, “do you think the snake lives there permanently?”
“No, he’s probably just shading up.”
“Okay, so he’s just visiting.  So, how often does he need to eat?” Concern for my chickens erupts my thinking.
“I don’t know.”
“So, tomorrow morning, if I open the door and he’s curled up on the porch, I’m supposed to just step over him?”
“No, he might bite you if you step over him,” I’m calmly informed.  “Get a broom and push him off the porch.”
“Okay, what if he coils up and hisses at me like he just did you?”
“Just get something long enough and push on him, he’ll slither away.”
And then I got the Augustus McCrae quote from Lonesome Dove, “You’re  going to give yourself the drizzles if you don’t relax.”
 
Excuse me, but I have the sudden urge to go the bathroom.
 
 
 
 
 

Nobody Knows

This morning I praised God.

This evening I questioned Him.

This morning I sat with the sunrise and read His Word.

This evening I sat on a stump and cried real tears.

This morning I sang, “Standing on the Promises.”

This evening I sang, “Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen.”

Join with me :Nobody Knows the Troubles I’ve Seen.

Nobody Knows (Go deep now) My Sorrows. 

It’s only further evidence of my self-diagnosed Manic Depression.  Or Bipolar Disorder if we are politically correct.  And mustn’t we be?  Of course in 2011, we must be politically correct.  That’s another thing that really burns my butt.  When did we become such sissies?

But enough of that.  Let’s get  back to me and my state of sissydom.  Because really, isn’t it all about me?

Me?  I’m fine.  Don’t worry about me.  It’s nothing, really.

No one is dead.  No one is hurt.  Everyone is fine and dandy.  Except for the horse who cut up her foot.

It’s only a molehill turning into a mountain.

It’s just a few more straws added to the camelette’s back.

But the camelette is still standing.  She’s one tough camelette, married to one tough camelot.

Just telling you about it helps me, so if you don’t mind me whining for just  moment, I’ll digress.

I’m feeling much better now.

Thanks for listening.

On a lighter note, I took my niece and a friend to the Amarillo zoo today because it’s free. 

The only trouble with going to the zoo on Free Monday is all the other poor folk are out as well.  It makes a person wonder why they have the animals caged and the humans roaming free.  I think it should be the other way around at the zoo on Free Monday.  Some places just attract people that make you go hmmmmmm. 

The circus.

The carnival.

 The Walmarts.

I chose a terrible time of the day to arrive at the zoo.  Right smack dab in the heat of it.  So the animals laid around in the shade and didn’t give 2 squirts of owl crap about the homo sapiens staring through their wire, generating strange primal sounds cleverly thinking they sound like one of their kind just to get a tail to wag or an eye to  blink.  My niece’s friend stated, “They just ignore us!”

Come to think of it, the animals are depressed.  And why shouldn’t they be.  What a miserable existence lying in a small confined space when they know they were born to be wild. 

Join with me now:  Born to be wiiiiilililild.

After the zoo, we stopped at a strip mall, where I bought the book “Heaven is For Real.”  Can’t wait to start that.  Ashy and her friend bought Bubba teeth and plastic flutes that very nearly got flung out the window on the ride home.

And now I’m home while my husband is broke down in Amarillo.  But not to worry, his brother is on his way to pick him up, and pull his truck to a mechanic. 

Nobody knows the troubles I’ve seen.

Supper’s not been cooked.

Nobody knows my sorrow.

But soon he’ll be home.

Sometimes I’m up and sometimes I’m down.

And give each other a tight bear hug.

Sometimes I’m almost to the ground.

And all will be right with the world.

Glory Hallelujah.

 

 

The Villian Part 2

The Villian is dead.

He is no more.

My facebook friends already know part of this story for I had to brag immediately, but for my fellow bloggers and non-facebook friends, I could not leave you hanging on the snake saga.

Two days ago, I encountered a snake lurking ever too closely to my chicken coop.

After a 40 minute stand-off, the snake slithered away into a deep, dark hidey-hole.  My hopes were it was never to be seen again.

But alas, the following morning, after a nice little walk, I went to sit in my black and tan striped lawn chair to commune with my chickens only to find The Villian lying underneath my chair. 

After a quick scream, a high jump, a skit, and a scatter, I gathered myself, picked up the phone and called my husband to rush to my rescue.  He was 30 minutes away.

So, another stand-off began.  For about 10 minutes I stared at the snake as he did nothing but lifted his little serpent head and wiggled his tongue.  I then decided to abort this little game and go into the house for awhile to wait on my husband. 

And now friends, I fear you won’t believe the rest of the story, but if you could see me now, I’m holding up 3 fingers and swearing scout’s honor. 

After a brief break indoors, I walked back outside to check on the status of The Villian, when there by the corner of my house was another snake.  Yes, another one.  Two snakes, alive, at the same time.  In the same vicinity.  I just about died.  Died, I tell you.   The second snake was yellowish and I knew it was harmless, but still the idea of living with a den of snakes is a bit unsettling to me. 

I dialed my husband again, “THERE ARE NOW 2 SNAKES RIGHT HERE!  TWO!  DO YOU HEAR ME?  I REPEAT 2 SNAKES!”

He was a bit aggravated at this point and said he would get here as soon as he could.

So I waited and I watched.  The yellow snake slithered towards the first snake.  The first snake decided he wanted no part of meeting a new friend and slithered across my path.  And that’s when I had my chance.  Raising my shovel mid-air, with a hearty Tawanda yell (Fried Green Tomatoes reference) I gave that snake a good whack.  Unfortunately one whack barely did any damage.  It just kind of stunned the fellow.  So I kicked it into overkill and began madly whacking the snake repeatedly, issuing primal grunts the entire time.  I just couldn’t stop. 

After I caught my breath and allowed my heart rate to decline to at least 400 beats per minute, I glanced over to where Mr. Yellow was last seen.  He was gone.  Perhaps he witnessed the event and decided he better get the heck out of dodge if he knew what was good for him.

J-Dub arrived shortly after and confirmed that it was just a little old bull snake, completely harmless, perhaps even considered a good snake as far as good snakes go, and tossed it into the pasture where it is slowly rotting and crawling with ants as we speak.

TAWANDA!!

 

Memorial Day

The flags were flying high and proud at Ft. Gibson National Cemetary this past Monday.

I took a solitary road trip to visit my dad’s grave.

This trip was a journey of healing for me. 

Not complete healing, only partial.  But I’ll take partial.

My dad’s death hasn’t seemed real to me.  He lived in another town and although we facebooked regularly, we only saw each other about every 4-6 months.  He would call me up or send a message saying “I’ll be out that way about Tuesday.”  Just out of the blue like that.  Whenever he’d take the notion.  I’ve been expecting to hear from him anyday now.

Driving into the cemetery, searching for section 24, site 146 and seeing his gravestone made  it real for me.  Realizing that I would be driving into his town, see the stores, see the family, see the memories but not see him, made it real for me.  Not feeling his hug and his sloppy kiss on my cheek made it real for me.

Whenever we’d leave town, he’d stand on the porch on Cedar Street, lean on the railing and wave us good-bye for as long as we could see him.  That too didn’t happen this trip.  It won’t ever happen again.

It was good for me to face it all.  A tiny piece of my broken heart was sewn together this past weekend.  And as time passes, more stitches will be added.  The void won’t be so vast.  The hole won’t feel so empty.

The stages of grief are:

Denial

Anger

Bargaining

Depression

Acceptance

Today, I accept it. 

Tomorrow may be a different story. 

But today I’m okay.

 

The Villian

A Villian is loose on the J&A Chicken Ranch tonight.

Mothers, hold your babies.

Men, gather up a posse.  

There’s trouble.  And I don’t think I’ll be sleeping until The Villian is captured.

Let me start at the beginning.

I let a cantaloupe go bad, so I decided to cut it up and take it to the chickens.  So there we all were, me and the chickens, them enjoying their moldy treat, and me bawking at them, trying to carry on a conversation.  Bawk, bawk, bawk. 

  When all of a sudden, I caught the movement out of my excellent peripheral vision.  It didn’t take long for me to be up and alert, on my feet, like a jungle cat, well aware that very close to me and my chickens, a snake was slithering.  A snake.  My heart raced.  My breath quickened.  My fight or flight response kicked in. 

What does a brave, strong, fearless country girl like me do in a situation like this? 

Panic, that’s what.

I screamed.  I ran to the house for the phone.  I called my husband, only to get his dadgum voice mail. 

Thoughts raced.  The snake was little, a mere baby, with a head no bigger than my thumb.  It was grayish, with black diamonds covering its back.  I didn’t see a rattle, but baby rattlesnakes don’t always have rattles.  It could be a Bull Snake.   It was skinny, and I feared not for myself but for my chickens.  He could easily squeeze his moldable body through the chicken wire, unhook its massive jaws and swallow a chicken in one gulp.  I was sure of it. 

Seconds ticked past.  As The Villian surprisingly slowly crawled underneath a whole bunch of junk laying up near the saddle house, I searched frantically for a weapon and found a shovel.   He was unattainable at this point.  I could see his head, and his tail, but could reach neither.

  So began the stand-off.  I would wait him out.  He’d have to come out eventually.  And when he did, WHACK!!

He stared at me. 

I stared at him.

He darted his forked tongue at me.

I darted mine back.

Then my cell phone rang.  It was J-Dub.  I informed him I was having a snake stand off.  He advised me to leave him alone.  But I insisted that The Villian must die. The chickens.  I must protect my chickens.  He was still lying underneath several branding irons, amidst stacks of bricks.  My beloved tells me to get something long and poke it at him.  And of course, he offers to come home and take care of The Villian.  But I hate to bother a working man, so I tell him I’ll take care of it myself and hang up the phone. 

Alone.  Scared.  Just The Villian and I.

We stare each other down some more.  I decide against poking him.   I’ve watched the Discovery Channel.  I’ve seen snakes lash themselves out 70 feet with mouth spread wide and venom dripping off their fangs.   I didn’t want to make him mad.  I’m nonconfrontational after all.  I prefer the surprise sneak attack: stand like a soldier until he crawled out, and surprise him with a shovel chop to the head. 

Thirty minutes pass.  The snake has fallen asleep, dreaming of chicken dinners.  I, however, remain vigilant.  I am ever alert.

Finally growing tired of standing in one place, I gather all the courage I can muster, and using my shovel I move around some branding irons.  The Villian stirs.    I’ve got him running scared now.  I use my shovel again and manuever some more junk around.  He moves some more.  If only he would come out of his hiding place.  If only he would stick his head out, I’d chop it off.  I see myself raising my weapon, whacking his head clean off, I see his tail twitch, I see my prize kill lying before me.  But instead he turns around and slithers off somewhere  deep and dark.  A hidey-hole of which I can not find.  I lose The Villian.  He roams free tonight. 

Fathers, protect your daughters.

Chickens, sleep with one eye open.

Now

Don’t come to pay me homage
or spill tears upon my stone.
Come now and let me touch you,
Let me know I’m not alone.
I need the sweet assurance
of your warm and gentle smile.
I yearn to hear your laughter,
sit beside me for a while.
When Jesus comes to take me
to my home in heaven’s place,
I’ll go in peace, contented
that I’ve seen your smiling face.
I will not smell the flowers
or hear you sing my praise.
Bring them now to warm my heart
throughout my living days.
Your kindness and compassion,
greater love you can’t endow.
Come share these precious moments
while I live…..come do it now

~Patience Allison Hartbauer

This poem was in a book sitting on my nightstand of the Bed and Breakfast I am staying in while visiting my dad’s grave for memorial day.

It’s a reminder to me to cherish the time we have with loved ones who remain. We may be visiting their graves and cherishing their memories all too soon.

Summertime and the Living is Easy

School’s out for summer!

Sing it Alice, sing it.

Just in case you’re wondering, that’s not me on the last day of school.  That’s Alice Cooper, but even I admit the resemblance is uncanny.

Today I woke up and literally jumped for joy.  My beloved husband said, “Does this mean you’re going to be in a good mood every day this summer?” 

“Yes, Yes it does.”

(looking towards the heavens)  “Thank you Jesus.”

My moods have been less than good lately.  And summertime is just what the doctor ordered.   I enjoy my job.  I enjoy my students.  I also enjoy my time off. 
Plans for my summer consist of a whole lot of nothing.  My dad used to say in reference to his retired life, “Everyday’s a Saturday.”  Agreed, that is what my summer should be.  I’m not a vacationer.  I don’t care to travel.  I hate to fly, and that big old world out there holds no intrigue for me.  I’m a homebody, happy to sit in the yard and listen to the chickens cluck.  They’re beginning to cluck now.  They no longer peep.  Their sounds are lovely, lovely to my ears.

During Summer two thousand eleven:

I’m going to work on my writing and my figure.
I’m going to start and complete household projects.
I’m going to cook supper at least four times a week.
I’m going to spend time with my niece.
I’m going to buy a pool.
I’m going to pray and draw closer to God.
I’m going to relish each day.

I leave you with a favorite quote of mine. I’ve posted it before but it’s double post worthy.
“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under the trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of water or watching the clouds float across the sky is by no means a waste of time.” Unknown

Happy summer friends.