zirconium: photo of ranunculus bloom on my laptop (ranunculus on keyboard)
47 - satellites

The satellite feed for the karaoke glitches for a moment, and suddenly, Oya's on the video, dressed like a schnozzy Elvis gone Eastern and sexually ambiguous, shades to match. -- Tom Doyle, "The Floating Otherworld"

[list of prompts at http://upperrubberboot.tumblr.com/post/123904555213]


Nov. 27th, 2015 03:19 pm
zirconium: sunflower core against the sky (sunflower sentinel)
Black Friday dandelion

November dandelion
smirking at the myrtles--
I ponder pickling
zirconium: doll with bike @High Point Doll Museum (doll with bike)
A local weekly published a holiday calendar. Its entry for December 23:

Embrace your inner goth. Make yourself a hot buttered rum (with or without the rum) and read "The Dead" by James Joyce.

There was a Martha Stewart calendar maybe 15 years ago that listed "Make croquembouche" somewhere around December 23. That one gave my eyebrows more of a workout.

I will also say, though, that the mention of goths poked me into peeking at Debi Gliori's blog (her Pure Dead series having come to mind [*]), leading to "A Pebble in a Pool," a post about how a letter (with glitter!) from a little girl in Germany reached the author's kitchen in Scotland.

[* That said, the Joyce would be more in tune with a Cure soundtrack than the Gliori, which is more goofy than gloomy in general (in spite of witches and devils and an undead Italian grandmother in the mix). Though Pure Dead Wicked does describe some December interactions as well... ("Christmas Day dawned wet and sleety. Sensing that this day was extra special...")
zirconium: photo of Greek style coffee, Larnaca, October 2011 (coffee in Cyprus)
While hunting for some tights I'd stashed somewhere out of the way, I came across a sheet of notes for a paper I was drafting back in 1991 or 1992. At this remove, I don't quite understand all of it, especially as it refers back to even older notes from February 1990 (a Michael Murrin lecture on the Holy Grail), but I am amused to see this quote (of Murrin, I think):

"We're never going to get done, we never do, but then, this is medieval lit."

If my house weren't so firmly 20th century (thank God!), I'd be tempted to nickname it Medieval Lit. There is so much to do and to deal with. But then, it's a house. And sprucing it up is not that high on the list -- not when there are indexes to draft and avocadoes to mash (K&S had a one-day sale yesterday) and housemates to giggle at:

the day after Halloween

(That is a jack-o-lantern squeaky toy in Miss Dawg's mouth.)

Prompts 45 and 46 in Upper Rubber Boot's photo challenge, 100 Untimed Books, are "miniature" and "coming home."

miniature / coming home

The mini-book (created by Roger Culbertson and illustrated by Sarah McMenemy, 1997) contains pop-ups, including the wagging tail of a dog on a beach and the turning wheel of a bicycle.

I used to own a copy of Rosamunde Pilcher's Coming Home, and it contains scenes that remain in my memory, such as the night that Jeremy cooks steaks in butter for Judith. Though I'd forgotten that Judith had a cold until I looked up the scene again just now. (And glancing at some of the other pages online has reminded me of why the book irritated me enough to sell it.)

The Shell Seekers remains on my shelves, though. I think I picked it up at a used bookstore in Chicago, and it too has various characters returning to places they consider "home."

I didn't go to church today, what with the still-nasty cough, but I have The Shell Seekers open to a funeral scene, where the congregation is singing "For all the saints"": "It wasn't perhaps the most suitable hymn for a funeral, but ____ had chosen it because it was the only one she knew that ____ really liked." Another congregant thoroughly approves of the choice: "Music, flowers, and now a rousing hymn . . . just what _____ would have enjoyed."
zirconium: photo of pumpkin on wire chair (pumpkin on chair)
I had planned to wear my old cobweb cloak and gloves to the office tomorrow, but they are not where I thought I'd stashed them. I did find the bat-decorated kerchief a groomer had tied around my dog's neck a decade ago, which may suffice as a hair decoration.

One of tonight's reads: A Dance Like Starlight: One Ballerina's Dream (text by Kristy Dempsey, illos by Floyd Cooper), a picture book that takes place in 1951 and leads to a night at a ballet featuring Janet Collins, the first African American prima ballerina.

Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books prompt 39: far away

100 untimed books - far away

Prompt 40: electronic

100 untimed books - electronic 100 untimed books - electronic

Prompt 41: strength

100 untimed books - strength

(Picked this one up a week or two ago from the library sale shelf. Fifty cents. Bathtub reading!)

Prompt 42: greener

100 untimed books - greener

Prompt 43: honey - see previous entry

Prompt 44: swords

100 untimed books - swords

The book is Dorothy L. Sayers's Gaudy Night, which has been responsible for several longtime friendships as well as the fact that even old friends of the BYM sometimes use that acronym in sending their love to him through me, which is apparently what happens when blogging has been one's main vehicle for staying in touch with said friends since 2000. Lord. Gaudy Night is not one of my desert island books simply because so much of it already resides in my head, which is how it sprang to mind when it was time to think about whether I had any books referring to swords (though I now have to laugh at myself for not going straight to either copy of Cyrano de Bergerac).

The World War II bayonet was among the possessions of the late father of a former student of my honorary big brother, and probably belonged to her grandfather (Air Force), great-uncle (Navy), or great-aunt (Marine drill sergeant!). My friendships are indeed a fount of entertainment and wonder.
zirconium: me @Niki de St Phalle's Firebird (firebird)
When Miss Dog nosed me off the couch this morning, my head was still aching and my throat still raw from the cold that hit me toward the end of last week, and I staggered back to the cushions thinking that I'd be flat on my back for another day and in no state even to watch videos (a library copy of The Crossing, is waiting for me; it may be of interest to some of you because, according to one YouTube commenter, "Alexander Hamilton [Steven McCarthy] never looked so sexy!" and I admittedly requested it because I'm still working through my Roger Rees fetish; he plays Hugh Mercer).

At any rate, three more hours of sleep + meds + coffee somehow worked wonders, at least to the extent of me feeling up to light gardening. I pruned the mess around the rogue rosebush and rooted three cuttings from it, dipping them first in honey:

Honey as a rooting compound

"Honey" is also prompt 43 in Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books photo challenge, so this passage from an Emily Dickinson letter (28 December 1880) caught my eye:

The Honey reached us yesterday.

Honey not born of Bee -- but Constancy -- which is "far better." I can scarcely tell you the sweetness it woke, nor the sweetness it stilled.

100 untimed books - honey

In introducing the letter, the recipient's granddaughter notes that "death was again uppermost in [Emily's] mind" at this time, "two more persons were gone who had meant much to her in different ways" -- the novelist George Eliot and the physician David P. Smith. I am not grieving, exactly, but I did hear of two deaths last week that have me perhaps clinging a touch tighter to the connections that have persisted across time and distance. Both women died of cancer -- one last November, one this past March -- and I am not surprised that I was not in the loop about either passing, as it's been more than fifteen years since I saw either of them and I am no longer close to the people who would have known to let me know. But I am also immensely grateful to the connections deep enough to transmit both news and warmth every few years, which is how I found out about the former colleague, and to the internet's obituary archives for providing me closure on Marilyn, whose paintings hang in my living room and library. My copy of E. E. Cummings's collected poems was already pretty beat-up when I impulsively gave it to her during a workshop we were taking together; I wonder if it survived her own moves since 1995, or if a family member chucked it into a dumpster during the final cleaning-out, or if maybe she handed it on to another penny-pinched artist to enjoy.

I am not really fretting over what happened to the book, of course; it is merely somewhere for the sadness to go until I regain the drive to channel it into poems. In the meantime: honey and dirt. For perhaps the roses really want to grow...

rose propagation

best years

Oct. 20th, 2015 07:32 pm
zirconium: doll with bike @High Point Doll Museum (doll with bike)
Prompt 38 in Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books photo challenge is best years.

38 - best years

I'm indulging in irony here, as Niki and Harry's marriage did not last, though Harry would later remember their years together as "fabulous" and Niki would write about becoming close friends with Harry's second wife and sharing many secrets with her. A woman who spent her life with a paintbrush in one hand and a 22-calibre rifle in the other, Niki de Saint Phalle survived abuse and multiple suicide attempts to create compelling works of art.

Harry and Me is a book that zigs and zags from memories of delight to memories of frustration to memories of contentment. There's Niki being so distraught at the death of a parakeet that she slashes "a very good painting"; she says that Harry then became "furious with me and he made me promise to never ever take my grief out on my work like that again." Then, a few pages later, there's a clash of styles in Madrid:

Harry was very careful and meticulous with his proper use of the Spanish language. I on the other hand, wanted only to communicate. I did not care about grammar (or mistakes in general) and my Spanish annoyed him no end. Because of Harry's perpetual correction, which grated my nerves, I stupidly gave up speaking it although I could understand it well enough.

But there was also happiness:

One of Harry's and my great pleasures during our several trips to Spain was to eat in tapas bars instead of regular restaurants. We ate at tapas bars in Cordoba when we went to visit the mosque there, and I think also in Madrid. These tapas bars served a huge variety of spicy, heavy and delicious nibbles to be eaten while sipping the strong red Spanish wine. There were tapa of all kinds: squid tapa, sausage tapa, chicken and olive tapa, and shellfish tapa, etc. Harry and I would sit at the bars for long hours and just point to the things that we wanted to eat.
zirconium: photo of flask with feathers in and around it (flask with feathers)
Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books prompt 36 is "nails." I brought Donna Karan's new memoir home from the library today (along with a Pilates manual and a collection of Szymborska poems from the sale shelf for the grand total of $1), but this is the book that first came to mind:

36 - nails

I met with one contractor last week and will interview another this week. The sunroom will get built eventually. In the meantime, I hauled inside one pot of rosemary, four of peppers, and two tomato vines ahead of the weekend's second frost warning. Another vine was too far gone to bother with, but I plucked the two tiny tomatoes off its tip before chucking it over the rail:

tiny tomatoes in a sushi dish

(Diameter of dish = 3.5 inches)

Prompt 37 is "joyful."

37 - joyful

The holiday prayerbook is from West End Synagogue, where I've celebrated Simchat Torah a couple of times. The glossy guide to Tel Aviv was purchased during a stay there, prompted by the wedding of a college friend in Jaffa. That was indeed a joy-filled occasion, as was the wedding celebration I attended in Austin this past weekend (which also featured some Jewish elements, and during which I chatted with the woman next to me about New York and Houston synagogues and community centers). The bride is a librarian, so one of the cakes was decorated with the outline of a book, and the centerpieces were pop-up books with photos of the couple pasted into some niche or tab. Focal points during the gatherings the following day included a restored player piano and hundreds of silvery bats and an Irish band rocking through Elvis and Johnny Cash as well as more traditional-sounding tunes. (I can't hear "Ring of Fire" without remembering the contra dance mashup someone at Christmas School devised for an after hours session, which had a title like "Walking the Line of Fire" ...)
zirconium: photo of Greek style coffee, Larnaca, October 2011 (coffee in Cyprus)
[photo challenge: Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books] prompt 35: prescriptions for loneliness

Alfred A. Knopf's photo album came to mind when I was pondering this prompt, perhaps because it's where I store my copy of the program for the 1945 dinner in honor of Fred Melcher's fifty years in publishing (Melcher being a prominent Unitarian Universalist who, among many other roles, was a key player in establishing the Newbery and Caldecott medals).

35 - prescriptions for loneliness

35 - prescriptions for loneliness

In Victoria Glendinning's biography of Elizabeth Bowen, there's a photo of Elizabeth at the Knopf home in Purchase, New York. I find Glendinning's generalizations about sexuality and friendship irritating, but within the nonsense there are glimpses of a past generation's true moments of connection:

William Maxwell of The New Yorker/ observed that [Elizabeth] was at her best and most affectionate when she was with Blanche and Alfred Knopf -- "I always felt that they must have played together as children" -- and he remembered a dinner party with the Knopfs and Elizabeth as "a kind of blaze of happiness.

The clipping is from an October 4 edition of the New York Times, in which Penelope Green writes about interviewing Patti Smith:

"I just do my work, and I work every day, and my ambition is just to do something better than I last did," she said. "I'd like to write something as great as Pinocchio or Little Women. I won't say Moby-Dick because that's impossible. I'd like to write a book that everybody loves. I'd like to take a picture that someone wants to put above their desk so they can look at it while they're writing a letter or doing whatever they're doing while sitting at their desk. I'd like to do a painting that would astonish people."

But books are her deepest love, and writing them is clearly her keenest ambition. When she received her advance from Knopf, the publisher of M Train, she bought a bronze statue of a young boy who has caught a bird in his hands; she set it in her tangled front yard here.

"It was my dream to be with Knopf since I was 20," she said. "I wanted to have something solid to mark that. I bought him because he reminded me of Peter Pan."
zirconium: medical instruments @High Point Doll Museum (medical instruments (miniature))
I'm repeating prompt 32, "breathing," because I'd forgotten about this chapbook:


Of the books I've reviewed for Galatea Resurrects over the years, my favorite is Enjoy Hot or Iced by Denise Duhamel and Amy Lemmon, and my favorite poem in it is Duhamel's "Expired," which begins with:

When my mother says, Take something of your father's to remember him by,
I take his black and silver "D" cufflinks and an Albuterol inhaler ...

For prompt 33, I picked up my Gilbert and Sullivan treasury, expecting to find "Full Moon" from HMS Pinafore in it. It's not. Oh. So a glimpse from The Mikado will have to do:

33 - moon

For prompt 34, "declined," an excerpt from Robert Lewis's Slings and Arrows:


34 - declined

[photo challenge: Upper Rubber Boot's 100 Untimed Books]
zirconium: my hands, sewing a chemo cap liner (care caps hands)
The challenge: Upper Rubber Boot's 100 untimed books.

Over at Vary the Line, my response to prompt 29: equality.

Prompt 30: paper

30 - paper

30 - paper

Prompt 31: glass

31- glass

(Nick Bantock's Griffin and Sabine)

Prompt 32: breathing

32 - breathing

. . . That summer,

I sold squash alone, and my uncle started
a cough that didn't stop until January.

Nobody slept the week of his funeral.
Katie Teppe took a drink and said,

That's a damn nice looking coffin.
zirconium: snapshot of oysters enjoyed in Charleston (oysters)
So much happening in Nashville today. Assorted friends and colleagues were at either the Southern Festival of Books or Frist Center events, especially in relation to the Shinique Smith show. My Twitter timeline seemed to be checking in from either Oktoberfest or the Grace Potter concert. I was tempted to walk to the trunk show hosted by my yoga studio (especially on hearing that hot whiskey cider would be served), and equally tempted to stay home and nap, since I'd stayed up longer than I should've rereading a Lee Bros. cookbook.

But I had reserved a spot in the free 9 a.m. screenprinting workshop at Plaza's Hands On Creativity day, so that's where I went after breakfast. The hands-on part of that session involved applying glow-in-the-dark ink to a t-shirt, which is now on my ironing board upstairs, awaiting the heat-before-wearing/washing step. (Note to locals: there are workshops and demos on various topics through Sunday, too.) To my relief, the group opted for the skull-with-flowers design rather than the four-leaf clover pattern. The rep warned that the blue ink we selected would not glow as intensely as the original practically-invisible-in-daylight formula, but I was willing to make that tradeoff, especially since it sounded like the latter might register as yellow (which, no thanks. I have plenty of dingy-looking shirts already).

While at the store, I also picked up a copy of Huis Clos, a new paper I'd heard some buzz about. The "What's It Like to Bike That Pike (Volume VII: Murfreesboro Pike)" column was both fun and informative enough read for me to see if the earlier installments were online, but I've come across only an abridged version of the feature on Hillsboro.

After a stretch of housework, I went back out to Charlotte Pike, dropping off dry cleaning and picking up twenty pounds of rice at K&S, along with a sack of snow pea leaves. Chinatown and Lucky Bamboo have both been out of those greens the past few times I've attempted to order them, so spotting them was today's winning-the-shopping-lottery moment. On the way home, I stopped at Sweet 16th for kung pao quinoa and an Elvis mini-bundt cake.

After lunch, it was back to Plaza for the Gamblin workshop, which involved 2- and 3-D color wheels as well as extended discussions about layering and opacity/transparency:

Gamblin oil demo

The take-home samples included a bottle of Galkyd Lite, a bottle of Gamsol, and a tube of Torrit Grey. A new pair of products of particular interest: solvent-free gel and fluid, which are sufficiently non-flammable that artists can bring them onto planes.

On my way out, I spent a couple of minutes at the Winsor and Newton table, where there were markers and blenders to play with. On my way home, I stopped at Woodland Wine Merchant, where today's tasting was from their barrel of Eagle Rare. Its smell? Glorious.

Upper Rubber Boot's prompt 27 for 100 Untimed Books is "dog-eared." That entry is over at Vary the Line.

Prompt 28 is "water":

28 - water
zirconium: doll with bike @High Point Doll Museum (doll with bike)
A thing I enjoy about prompts is that they get my brain out of its usual grooves. I did not know until just now, for instance, that there is a programming language named "Julia," which is the name that came to mind for Upper Rubber Boot's prompt 26 for #100UntimedBooks. "Julia" is also a name of the editor of 7x20, which will feature some pieces of mine soon (and which was founded by Upper Rubber Boot's publisher). It is also a name of a woman who witnessed my wedding and the first name of her daughter.

I say "a name" since many of the women I know answer to multiple monikers. And then there's "Olivia Morgan Gilliam" in The Pastel Trilogy, who owes her existence, one could say (page 12), to Julia Morgan Hays. And those books, which are rooted in Greenville, bring to mind Julia Reed...

26 - the same names

I fit in some writing of my own today during lunch, which was at the 2/22 Eatery at the Country Music Hall of Fame (thank you, Downtown Partnership, for the discount). At one point the guitarist segued from "Can't Help Falling in Love" into a few bars of Mendelssohn's wedding march. Since he'd actually spent a solid part of the hour playing Bach and then Johnny Cash, I wasn't visited by the urge to pelt rolls at him.
zirconium: sculpture of owl at Cheekwood, Nashville (Cheekwood owl)
Upper Rubber Boot's prompt 25 for 100 Untimed Books is "skyline."

26 - the same names

The two skylines that have lifted my heart the most often are Chicago's and Nashville's. Riding the bus from Kentucky or the train from Michigan to Chicago. Giggling at Nashville's Bat-building countless times.

I am kind of tempted by this painting party, but Music City Masquerade is also that weekend (not to mention music to rehearse and perform, and letters to letter, etc.). Oh, the choices ...
zirconium: snapshot of cookie cutter star from sorghum marshmallow making (Default)
Upper Rubber Boot's prompt 24 for 100 Untimed Books is "sweets."

Which brings to mind a different cookbook:

From which I've made these:

praline chocolate cake

bavarian cream

The miniature bottle of cherry liqueur was special ordered by my favorite wine store when I needed it for the praline chocolate cake above. There was plenty of cake left over after the party, so I took a third of it to Amanda and Tyler and the gang.

Last night I was not feeling nearly so ambitious, and ended up at Local Taco. They ran out of the lobster-BLT special that had gotten me out of the house, but there are worse fates than sipping a frozen margarita over a fried avocado taco while watching Dexter Fowler hit a home run for the Cubs. (Didn't see Arrieta steal second, but was plenty amused by the Twittersphere's reaction to that.)
zirconium: snapshot of cookie cutter star from sorghum marshmallow making (Default)
The day, it was mixed. On the less fun side of the ledger, there was the flat tire on my bike, a family member meltdown, feeling out of shape, and having to return to the supermarket because I'd left the yeast and mayo in the bagging area. On the upside, I was treated to a lovely breakfast, the new temp crown is behaving so far, I have a bowl of bao-dough rising, and I adapted the Lee Bros. recipe for shrimp supreme into cod creole for tonight's supper.

Upper Rubber Boot's prompt 23 for 100 Untimed Books is "instructions."

My go-to cookbook is Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything. It's been revised since I received my comp from Borders, which adds to the grungy oh-la-la of my tattered and splattered first edition:

23 - instructions

And in spite of this book being older than most of my shoes and nephews, there are plenty of dishes I look forward to attempting someday:

zirconium: of blue bicycle in front of Blue Bicycle Books, Charleston (blue bicycle)
Upper Rubber Boot prompt 20: travel
21: black and white
22: can't wait to see

I have fond memories of a morning I spent in Jacksonville almost three years ago. There were beautifully bedecked lions...

San Marco Square

...and a spice shop, where I purchased some presents, and the San Marco Bookstore, where I picked up three more gifts. (This was the road trip where I picked up Christmas stamps for that year's holiday mailing and then couldn't remember where I'd stashed them until January. This year I'm sticking with roses.) The store was having a Buy 1 Get 1 free sale, so I treated myself to Samuel Chamberlain's Bouquet de France (sixth printing August 1960), which includes both black-and-white photographs and line drawings:

Prompt 21 - black and white 21 - black and white28 - water

A painting I can't wait to see again (and unsuccessfully searched for online a few nights ago) is Irwin Hoffman's Portrait of Dorothea G. Hoffman, which hangs in the Boston Public Library's Fine Arts/Music Reading Room. It's a marvelous record of a beautiful woman, and it's been almost a decade since I last visited her (and the danger is, of course, that the painting may be rotated out by the time I next get myself to Suffolk County. Not too long ago, Cheekwood put back into a storage a painting I'd just started writing about but hadn't taken complete notes on, thinking it would be there the next time...). I keep my precious copy of the BPL reading room art list tucked inside a guidebook from Cambridge's Globe Corner store:

22 - can't wait to see

At the moment, though, I'm abandoning all my grand plans for the afternoon in favor of a nap. (Current rule of thumb: if I'm too tired to wash the dishes, I'm too tired to go out again. Plus there are mushroom bao to make...) I did sing in two services this morning, and I write about how the Gospel of Luke got me thinking about Jack Gilbert over at Vary the Line, which Mary is reviving, with contributions from me and Joanne at least once a month.
zirconium: Photo of graduated cylinder with black and blue feathers (measured 1)
Upper Rubber Boot prompt 18: spokesman

My copy of Jim Ottaviani's Suspended in Language is on loan to a friend, so you get this instead:

18 - spokesman

Sir Mark Oliphant, in Ann Mozley Moyal's Portraits in Science:

I was a member of a group that was led by Niels Bohr, after the test in Alamogordo, that was very much against the use of this new weapon on civilian cities. Niels Bohr, who was our spokesman -- which was a pity in some ways, because his English wasn't good and [laughs] his wife told me his Danish was almost as bad -- but he became our spokesman and was very very good and persistent in his approach.

  • Wikipedia's Pauli effect entry, which links to my sonnet about same

  • A Particular Truth--1941 - on Bohr and Heisenberg

  • At Teaching Resources, which obtained it via Moving Poems, which features Nic Sebastian's take as well: Othniel Smith's video remix of "Playing Duets with Heisenberg's Ghost"
  • zirconium: doll with bike @High Point Doll Museum (doll with bike)
    Upper Rubber Boot Prompt 17: driving

    17. driving

    I have been working on the catalogue of next year's Italian car exhibition, so this book (the catalogue of an earlier exhibition curated by Ken Gross) has kept me company during some late nights the past month. This weekend's work-related reading is the catalogue for an exhibition about the House of Alba.

    In other news, Moonsick Magazine published my poem "Nowhere to Go" yesterday.

    The BYM came by for lunch, and then we went upstairs to the postcards exhibition. He was especially entertained by some of the Krampus cards, as well as a sexy Easter greeting.
    zirconium: sculpture of owl at Cheekwood, Nashville (Cheekwood owl)
    16 - instruments

    Upper Rubber Boot Prompt 16: instruments

    Recently reading poems about Madam CJ Walker and A'Lelia Walker has me itching to resume contributing to the African American National Biography project (for which I wrote entries on Frederick Asbury Cullen, Rose Leary Love, and Gertrude Rush some years ago).

    But there are existing commitments to honor first, including learning Paul Winter et al.'s Missa Gaia, which a friend last night joked has become "The Unitarian Universalist Messiah (which, yes, my church has performed multiple times in the past twenty years, but this November's Music Sunday will be the first one I'm available for).

    You know you're in for something different when the credited composers include wolves and whales:

    learning Missa Gaia learning Missa Gaia

    I am reminded that I really do live in an amazing town -- the saxophone soloist for Music Sunday will be Jeff Coffin, and some other Sunday I'll get myself to one of Acme's jazz or soul brunches, and some other time I'll hit the clubs and workshops on the list. But first, there is work to do and there are friends to see. In the meantime: Madam CJ Walker and John Coltrane, at a now-closed doll museum in North Carolina...

    Doll & Miniature Museum of High Point


    zirconium: snapshot of cookie cutter star from sorghum marshmallow making (Default)

    November 2015

    S M T W T F S
    2223242526 2728


    RSS Atom

    Most Popular Tags

    Style Credit

    Expand Cut Tags

    No cut tags
    Page generated Nov. 30th, 2015 11:31 am
    Powered by Dreamwidth Studios