Do you remember grosser than gross jokes?
I used to really get a kick out of bantering back and forth with my stepdad to see who, indeed, could be grosser. I have to tell you, it was often a draw. My youth and lack of an age appropriate amount of acquired class were about as equal as his years of experience in grossology. I never had the forethought to realize who and what I was really dealing with. As a teenager, I never gave true credit to the fact that he had lived so many years with brothers, sisters, a spouse (and we all know how gross they can be), and kids. In retrospect, he must have really held back, because now, as an adult with lots of kids, I can honestly say, no one can outgross someone who has conceived a child.
Here is the grosser than gross joke which stands out the most. (Warning: this is not for the faint at heart or the truly conservative Christian. If you read this, do not pretend to be appalled.)
Stepdad: What's grosser than gross?
Me: I don't know, what?
Stepdad: When you kick off your underwear and it sticks to the ceiling. What's grosser than that?
Me: I give, what?
Stepdad: When it crawls down. What's grosser than that?
Me: (Shrugging shoulders and probably rolling my eyes at this point.)
Stepdad: When it crawls back up and you leave it there so you can find it again tomorrow.
Yep. I know. Brilliant. Many dads and daughters bond with butterfly kisses and daddy/daughter dances. Not us. We found common ground not over teen crushes and learning to drive as much as we did with those silly little jokes. It was priceless.
Almost twenty years later, I have to admit that I was never even a match for the gross-off.
Why? Life experience opens you up to a whole world of gross that you could never ever imagine.
I now feel ready for a rematch. A new chance at outgrossing the king of grosser than gross and long, drawn-out, yet somewhat endearing jokes.
I am ready. Gloves are on. I'm standing in my corner of the ring. I actually even think I am at my fighting weight, so let's go.
Here is my resume:
I have "romantic gross" experience. (We all know what that is...no explanation necessary.)
I have "child bearing gross" experience. (Again, you know. You watch baby story, don't you?)
I have "worked in the medical field gross" experience.
* I have handled (with gloves) nearly every bodily fluid or excretion...including sputum. Do you know what that is? I have taken the embarrassing phone calls in the medical office. I have had total strangers grab my hand and make me "feel" their stitches protruding through their skin as they fill me in on the wonders of gall bladder surgery. The medical stories could go on for days.
I have "church nursery gross" experience. (Nothing like watching the little 3 year old girl standing under the play structure as the boy above peed on her. You guessed it, I called her parents.)
I have "I ate what the dog spit out gross" experience. Here is how that played out:
Me: "Son, why did you not eat your garlic bread? I would have eaten that. (And I did.)
Son: "Because the dog got it." (Me picturing said dog whose tongue did the grooming.)
I have "physical discovery gross" experience. This is where you have the distinct pleasure over the years of seeing quirky little medical things happen to your trusty old body. Probably the least offensive thing I could mention is the strange places where acne pops up. Say no more.
And lastly, the grand-daddy of all gross experience....the one for which we should at the very least receive a girl scout badge is..."child rearing gross."
I'm not talking about normal bodily functions that mom's often have to clean up. The prizes of stomach flu, the perpetual snotty nose, the skinned up knee which develops a pus-filled scab, and even the misplaced sneeze....these are all delicate infractions compared to the intentional grossness of children. By intentional I mean that booger that was wiped on the wall...or the...well, read on.
My prize winning story is one that I feel needs a little background.
First of all, you should know that I am somewhat of a germiphobe. I carry hand sanitizer and Charmin to Go toilet seat covers in my purse. (Keep your smarty comments to yourself. You do it too.) I don't like to spend more time than necessary in a public restroom. I hate public restrooms. I hate even using the sinks in such places. Often I will make quick work of the sink and run out the door only to use half a tube of hand sanitizer. I also get grossed out by the things my children sometimes lick off their faces. I make my kids wash their faces sometimes before they are allowed to kiss me. (You feel me?) In my defense, however, I change a mean diaper and can clean up vomit if I have to.
That being said, know that when I attack bathroom cleaning, especially for company, I do a run through with clorox wipes, disposable toilet wands, and rubbing alcohol in a spray bottle to kill anything that should be killed and leave it sparkly clean. On one such occasion, I was getting ready for company and did a very last minute "touch up" of the guest bathroom. I was standing there with my paper towels in one arm and the alcohol spray in the other and noticed that the bathroom rug was crumpled up beneath my feet a little. I was trying to make it quick, so I just kind of tried to straighten it out with my bare feet. I wiped the vanity down (door bell rings) and shut the bathroom door so I could finish the job discreetly.
I began double checking the toilet and spraying and wiping quickly, put the lid down and turned around. I thought it a little odd that although I had straightened the rug with my feet, it was still lumpy. I then began to wonder why leading to that lump under the rug was what appeared to be a skid mark. Puzzling. So, I began to alcohol the floor and finish my touch up of the bathroom. After all, my company was here. They had been let in by my husband and I could hear their muffled chatter in the other room.
I don't know what possessed me to peel back the lumpy rug, but let's just say that nothing, I mean NOTHING, could have prepared me for...........(Psycho shower scene music playing).....a large, somewhat fresh POOP under the rug. Some precious soul had decided that rather than yell for mommy to come to their aid, or heaven forbid grab some toilet paper and "PICK UP AND FLUSH THE TURD," that they would scoot it under the rug where it would hopefully go unnoticed and not be traced back to the turdee.
While I am not quite sure what this dear, sweet, fruit of my loins was thinking, I am quite certain that this child somehow had to have touched this rather large nugget in order to camouflage it under the bathroom rug. (EEEEEWWW.) The other thing I am not sure of, is how this poop actually ended up on the floor in the first place. How do you miss the toilet by that much?
Needless to say, I scooped up the rug, scrubbed the floor and the grout and disposed of the evidence before my company got wind (literally) of it. Can you imagine what could have happened if I had not done the appropriate bathroom check? I shot up a quick prayer of thanksgiving and wished only momentarily that I was Catholic so I could have grabbed the Rosary, said 20 hail Mary's, and lit a candle of appreciation. (I do remember that a candle was involved, however!)
So, how about it? How about the big boxing match, dad? How about our final face off? Ready:
Me: "What's grosser than gross?"
Stepdad: "What?"
Me: "When you're cleaning the bathroom and you stomp a turd under the rug."
(How proud he must be.)
Ding! We have a winner!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
Mythbusters
I had a lovely time at Bunco this evening, however, some things left me scratching my head. First I must issue this disclaimer: The opinions and observations in this post are merely those of the blogger, and do not necessarily reflect those of the entire Bunco-playing, Jesus-loving, big-family, air-breathing world. Now that we have that out of the way, let me first explain how this post came about.
I am a schizophrenic, bi-polar people pleaser. Which in lay-terms means that half of the time I really care what people think and what they have to say. I will listen to polar opposite points of view and wittingly decide that I either agree or disagree and sometimes I will passionately dispute, and sometimes I will let it lie. Because I care what people think (in general, not just what they think about me) I try not to offend other people, although I know that it is not humanly possible never to do so unless you just don't speak. (Even God's word says that it is impossible to tame the tongue. James 3:8 "But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison.")
The other part of my schizophrenia is that I do NOT care what people think. This has come in handy on more than one occasion. Deciding in advance that you do not need the approval of men or that you will purpose to stay in the Spirit no matter the opposition you face (even "well-meaning" opposition) can be a real gift.
Where the bi-polar comes in, I think, is that I never know which personality I am taking with me on any given day, or on any given occasion. Darn it. Would that I could select the "peace with all men" personality rather than the "enter in an argument with a fool lest he become wise in his own estimation" personality when going to certain functions would truly come in handy. Again, darn it. It seems that sometimes the personalities are selected for me by a number of influencing factors...hormones, past experiences with government agencies, elevated blood pressure, lack of sleep, or my favorite: wrong number on the scale today. Darn it.
So, I don't know which bi-polar puzzle piece to assign to my experience today, but I must have taken along the "I'm going to let everything you say rob me of my joy, weaken my immune system, and leave me second-guessing my parenting" personality.
Here is what I wish had happened...I wish that I had taken a really big dose of "oblivion" today. Had I been oblivious to comments and wisecracks, I might have listened to people's hearts and not just their words. Instead, I stockpiled them. I let each little snipe take away a little piece of my confidence as a friend and sister in Christ.
What can I do about it? Well, I could drop out of Bunco, but I have really come to care about these women and love them. (Oh, and it is not just Bunco...it happens everywhere!) As for the Bunco gals, I think they are a unique group of God's people that all have something special to offer. Oh, and they are generous! I just love the way I have seen them care for new moms and sick moms and more. They are funny, too. Many of them are as different as night and day, but they come together to celebrate a night without kids, a little grown up conversation, and of course, dessert. :) At each persons core, no matter how different we seem, we would probably find that we are, indeed, all the same: we hurt, we laugh, we love, we have needs, we long for friendship, we have been devastated by something or someone, and we all need the Lord.
What else could I do about it? I could let it go. Pray about it. And then it hit me, blog about it!
Many of the myths that I have faced as a Public Schooling AND Homeschooling, Christian, Mom of 7, and wife came up tonight. Final disclaimer: If you were at Bunco, or if you have ever asked or said any of the following things to me or someone else, we know that this is not your fault. See James 3:8.
Myth #1) Wow, you have how many kids? You must never leave the kitchen.
Truth: You must enter the kitchen in order to leave the kitchen. Most of my kids are now able to pour milk over cereal, make mac-n-cheese or are proficient at ordering at the drive through. (Daughter number 3: "I will have a Chik-fil-A kids meal with 4 nuggets and a root beer, oh and don't forget the polynesian sauce.") How proud I must be, eh?
Myth #2) You and your husband must have a lot of sex. (Yep, you read it correctly.)
Truth: Being fertile, and being over-sexed are totally unrelated issues. It would be entirely possible that in 13 years of marriage that my husband and I have had sex only 7 times. Not likely, but possible. Oh, and if any of you have nursed a baby for a prolonged length of time, you know where your sex drive is. You are about as amorous as Bossie the milk-cow.
Myth #3) How many kids do you have now? (As if it changes weekly) Wow, 7 kids? Do you know the Duggar family on t.v.? (I was really asked that once.)
Truth: Each child has come one at a time, not a part of some litter. Each child has his/her own unique personality and birthday and most of them have been at least 2 years apart. Each child was a decision and a gift from God. Psalm 127:3 (Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; The fruit of the womb is a reward.) As far as the Duggar family goes, you don't get inducted into a big family cult or annual membership to a breeders convention, so sadly I do not know the Duggars. Had we ever met the Duggar family, I would let them know how I was impressed by their stand for Christ, their commitment to their family, and that all of their children can play the violin. (I personally couldn't stand 17 species of that instrument in my home, but to each his own.)
Myth #4) 7 kids? Wow, you might as well have 50.
Truth: Yep, I see the logic in that. 3 boys plus 4 girls = 50. (This myth rates up there with the "Are you going for your own basketball, baseball, football team?") Although, I have to confess that I have used this logic with dieting, "Well, I have already eaten 7 mini candy bars, I might as well have 50."
Myth #5) I don't know how you afford such a large family.
Truth: God is faithful for that which He gives us. When we had 2 children, we had the income we needed to support 2 children. When we had 5 children, we had what we needed for five, etc.
And the more painful truth, the parents who have the hardest time with this are the ones who think that every birthday must be a blow-out, every season must mean a new sport, Christmases are "make every dream come true" opportunities, and that every moment of their child's existence needs to be filled to the hilt with rich, satisfying experiences. Whatever happened to tire swings, mud-pies, and imagination? (I do have to confess that I recently only learned the "you don't have to buy every picture packet" lesson.)
Myth #6) For the homeschooled child(ren): My child is so social, I can't imagine not having him/her around other kids.
Truth: Homeschooled children, in all types of homeschool programs, typically need to be more disciplined to "stay home" than other children. They are usually so busy with outside activities, sports and other stimuli that they actually find it hard to fit school in. I don't think I have ever met any homeschoolers who didn't look you in the eye, speak confidently, and stand out socially. Some for good reasons, some for, well not so good. LOL
Myth #7) For the publicly schooled child(ren): I just don't want my child being influenced by other children. I can't imagine sending little Johnny to school and expecting him to learn what he needs to learn in such a large classroom with only one teacher.
Truth: Publicly schooled children (in my experience with my own children) learn quickly and early on how to sit still, take directions, listen to others, have patience in group settings, and often learn how to set and raise their own expectations to match or exceed those of their peers. There is a little healthy competition and striving to be the best. All of my publicly schooled children learned to read quickly and have fared very well in school. I am blessed by an exceptional school and don't suppose for one minute that my experience will be yours, but it is possible and it doesn't mean that I love my children less or have fed them to the wolves. (I was told that once before by a "homeschool only" mom.) The irony here for me is that I am not sure that I want my children being influenced by me. Hee hee.
Myth #8) The contents of my uterus are up for public discussion.
Truth: I don't know when it became socially acceptable to ask people this question: "Are you gonna have any more?" Or this one is good..."You're not pregnant again, are you?" (Funny, how do you answer that one if you are?) Maybe I shouldn't be as offended by that as by this one, "Don't you think you have enough?" Since I was not voted into this marriage by a majority of delegates, and I have not been supported by my peers with campaign contributions or a public servant's salary, I do not see the need for an annual "State of the Uterus" address. (But if you get my Christmas letter, you will know sooner or later if we "decided to have any more.")
Myth #9) The contents of my uterus should be touched by total strangers.
Truth: At the very least, a person should ask before touching the beautiful bulge of a pregnant mom. I think it is hilarious that just because the belly sticks out underneath a tight shirt that people think it necessary and acceptable to rub it as if you were a Buddah statue. If a woman had a large rear end sticking out as if it could hold a clock radio and a drink, would the same stranger think they must touch the freak-ish protrusion? I would hope not. (Suddenly the Black-eyed Pea song, My Humps, is playing in my mind.) Disclaimer: If you have a freak-ish protrusion in the back, no disrespect intended. You work it girl.
Myth #10) Better you than me...I could never handle that many kids.
Truth: Again I say to you, as God wills, He would give you the grace to handle it. Grace for 2 children when you have two, grace for 5 children when you have 5, etc. But I might agree with you on one thing, better me, than you. I have been amply blessed and can not imagine which child I might live without. I pray I never outlive my blessings from God and that I am living my life as God would have me live and serving my family as He would have me serve them. (I say serve loosely, as much as my kids fetch stuff for my husband and I and end up grooming themselves without our help, it can scarcely be considered an act of service on our part!) Even Jesus Himself did not come to be served, but to serve and to give His life a ransom for many. (If I turn up missing, don't pay the ransom, however, I am probably at the spa.)
Lastly, I leave you with these suggestions:
1) Say to a mom: "You are blessed" instead of "My, You have your hands full." (We hate that.)
2) Say to a mom: "Can I help you?" instead of "Do you know what causes that?" (Yep, not willing to quit.)
3) Say to a mom: "You are doing a great job" instead of "Gonna have any more?" (We often don't know ourselves.)
4) Say to a mom: "What a beautiful family" instead of "Better you than me." (Mostly true.)
5) Say to a mom: "Go for it"...instead of a "Why?" (Why did you only have one, two?)
6) Give to a mom: Praises instead of punchlines.
7) Give to a mom: Encouragement instead of insults.
8) Give to a mom: Grace instead of glares.
9) Give to a mom: Joy instead of pain.
10) Give to a mom: Jesus instead of judgement.
To those of you who are my confidants, friends, and acquaintances, I pray you would hold me accountable in the same way. I would hope that sister to sister, friend to friend, and mom to mom, that my love would demonstrate itself and that I would "let my words would be few."
Oh, and yes...we are going to have more. :)
I am a schizophrenic, bi-polar people pleaser. Which in lay-terms means that half of the time I really care what people think and what they have to say. I will listen to polar opposite points of view and wittingly decide that I either agree or disagree and sometimes I will passionately dispute, and sometimes I will let it lie. Because I care what people think (in general, not just what they think about me) I try not to offend other people, although I know that it is not humanly possible never to do so unless you just don't speak. (Even God's word says that it is impossible to tame the tongue. James 3:8 "But no one can tame the tongue; it is a restless evil and full of deadly poison.")
The other part of my schizophrenia is that I do NOT care what people think. This has come in handy on more than one occasion. Deciding in advance that you do not need the approval of men or that you will purpose to stay in the Spirit no matter the opposition you face (even "well-meaning" opposition) can be a real gift.
Where the bi-polar comes in, I think, is that I never know which personality I am taking with me on any given day, or on any given occasion. Darn it. Would that I could select the "peace with all men" personality rather than the "enter in an argument with a fool lest he become wise in his own estimation" personality when going to certain functions would truly come in handy. Again, darn it. It seems that sometimes the personalities are selected for me by a number of influencing factors...hormones, past experiences with government agencies, elevated blood pressure, lack of sleep, or my favorite: wrong number on the scale today. Darn it.
So, I don't know which bi-polar puzzle piece to assign to my experience today, but I must have taken along the "I'm going to let everything you say rob me of my joy, weaken my immune system, and leave me second-guessing my parenting" personality.
Here is what I wish had happened...I wish that I had taken a really big dose of "oblivion" today. Had I been oblivious to comments and wisecracks, I might have listened to people's hearts and not just their words. Instead, I stockpiled them. I let each little snipe take away a little piece of my confidence as a friend and sister in Christ.
What can I do about it? Well, I could drop out of Bunco, but I have really come to care about these women and love them. (Oh, and it is not just Bunco...it happens everywhere!) As for the Bunco gals, I think they are a unique group of God's people that all have something special to offer. Oh, and they are generous! I just love the way I have seen them care for new moms and sick moms and more. They are funny, too. Many of them are as different as night and day, but they come together to celebrate a night without kids, a little grown up conversation, and of course, dessert. :) At each persons core, no matter how different we seem, we would probably find that we are, indeed, all the same: we hurt, we laugh, we love, we have needs, we long for friendship, we have been devastated by something or someone, and we all need the Lord.
What else could I do about it? I could let it go. Pray about it. And then it hit me, blog about it!
Many of the myths that I have faced as a Public Schooling AND Homeschooling, Christian, Mom of 7, and wife came up tonight. Final disclaimer: If you were at Bunco, or if you have ever asked or said any of the following things to me or someone else, we know that this is not your fault. See James 3:8.
Myth #1) Wow, you have how many kids? You must never leave the kitchen.
Truth: You must enter the kitchen in order to leave the kitchen. Most of my kids are now able to pour milk over cereal, make mac-n-cheese or are proficient at ordering at the drive through. (Daughter number 3: "I will have a Chik-fil-A kids meal with 4 nuggets and a root beer, oh and don't forget the polynesian sauce.") How proud I must be, eh?
Myth #2) You and your husband must have a lot of sex. (Yep, you read it correctly.)
Truth: Being fertile, and being over-sexed are totally unrelated issues. It would be entirely possible that in 13 years of marriage that my husband and I have had sex only 7 times. Not likely, but possible. Oh, and if any of you have nursed a baby for a prolonged length of time, you know where your sex drive is. You are about as amorous as Bossie the milk-cow.
Myth #3) How many kids do you have now? (As if it changes weekly) Wow, 7 kids? Do you know the Duggar family on t.v.? (I was really asked that once.)
Truth: Each child has come one at a time, not a part of some litter. Each child has his/her own unique personality and birthday and most of them have been at least 2 years apart. Each child was a decision and a gift from God. Psalm 127:3 (Behold, children are a gift of the Lord; The fruit of the womb is a reward.) As far as the Duggar family goes, you don't get inducted into a big family cult or annual membership to a breeders convention, so sadly I do not know the Duggars. Had we ever met the Duggar family, I would let them know how I was impressed by their stand for Christ, their commitment to their family, and that all of their children can play the violin. (I personally couldn't stand 17 species of that instrument in my home, but to each his own.)
Myth #4) 7 kids? Wow, you might as well have 50.
Truth: Yep, I see the logic in that. 3 boys plus 4 girls = 50. (This myth rates up there with the "Are you going for your own basketball, baseball, football team?") Although, I have to confess that I have used this logic with dieting, "Well, I have already eaten 7 mini candy bars, I might as well have 50."
Myth #5) I don't know how you afford such a large family.
Truth: God is faithful for that which He gives us. When we had 2 children, we had the income we needed to support 2 children. When we had 5 children, we had what we needed for five, etc.
And the more painful truth, the parents who have the hardest time with this are the ones who think that every birthday must be a blow-out, every season must mean a new sport, Christmases are "make every dream come true" opportunities, and that every moment of their child's existence needs to be filled to the hilt with rich, satisfying experiences. Whatever happened to tire swings, mud-pies, and imagination? (I do have to confess that I recently only learned the "you don't have to buy every picture packet" lesson.)
Myth #6) For the homeschooled child(ren): My child is so social, I can't imagine not having him/her around other kids.
Truth: Homeschooled children, in all types of homeschool programs, typically need to be more disciplined to "stay home" than other children. They are usually so busy with outside activities, sports and other stimuli that they actually find it hard to fit school in. I don't think I have ever met any homeschoolers who didn't look you in the eye, speak confidently, and stand out socially. Some for good reasons, some for, well not so good. LOL
Myth #7) For the publicly schooled child(ren): I just don't want my child being influenced by other children. I can't imagine sending little Johnny to school and expecting him to learn what he needs to learn in such a large classroom with only one teacher.
Truth: Publicly schooled children (in my experience with my own children) learn quickly and early on how to sit still, take directions, listen to others, have patience in group settings, and often learn how to set and raise their own expectations to match or exceed those of their peers. There is a little healthy competition and striving to be the best. All of my publicly schooled children learned to read quickly and have fared very well in school. I am blessed by an exceptional school and don't suppose for one minute that my experience will be yours, but it is possible and it doesn't mean that I love my children less or have fed them to the wolves. (I was told that once before by a "homeschool only" mom.) The irony here for me is that I am not sure that I want my children being influenced by me. Hee hee.
Myth #8) The contents of my uterus are up for public discussion.
Truth: I don't know when it became socially acceptable to ask people this question: "Are you gonna have any more?" Or this one is good..."You're not pregnant again, are you?" (Funny, how do you answer that one if you are?) Maybe I shouldn't be as offended by that as by this one, "Don't you think you have enough?" Since I was not voted into this marriage by a majority of delegates, and I have not been supported by my peers with campaign contributions or a public servant's salary, I do not see the need for an annual "State of the Uterus" address. (But if you get my Christmas letter, you will know sooner or later if we "decided to have any more.")
Myth #9) The contents of my uterus should be touched by total strangers.
Truth: At the very least, a person should ask before touching the beautiful bulge of a pregnant mom. I think it is hilarious that just because the belly sticks out underneath a tight shirt that people think it necessary and acceptable to rub it as if you were a Buddah statue. If a woman had a large rear end sticking out as if it could hold a clock radio and a drink, would the same stranger think they must touch the freak-ish protrusion? I would hope not. (Suddenly the Black-eyed Pea song, My Humps, is playing in my mind.) Disclaimer: If you have a freak-ish protrusion in the back, no disrespect intended. You work it girl.
Myth #10) Better you than me...I could never handle that many kids.
Truth: Again I say to you, as God wills, He would give you the grace to handle it. Grace for 2 children when you have two, grace for 5 children when you have 5, etc. But I might agree with you on one thing, better me, than you. I have been amply blessed and can not imagine which child I might live without. I pray I never outlive my blessings from God and that I am living my life as God would have me live and serving my family as He would have me serve them. (I say serve loosely, as much as my kids fetch stuff for my husband and I and end up grooming themselves without our help, it can scarcely be considered an act of service on our part!) Even Jesus Himself did not come to be served, but to serve and to give His life a ransom for many. (If I turn up missing, don't pay the ransom, however, I am probably at the spa.)
Lastly, I leave you with these suggestions:
1) Say to a mom: "You are blessed" instead of "My, You have your hands full." (We hate that.)
2) Say to a mom: "Can I help you?" instead of "Do you know what causes that?" (Yep, not willing to quit.)
3) Say to a mom: "You are doing a great job" instead of "Gonna have any more?" (We often don't know ourselves.)
4) Say to a mom: "What a beautiful family" instead of "Better you than me." (Mostly true.)
5) Say to a mom: "Go for it"...instead of a "Why?" (Why did you only have one, two?)
6) Give to a mom: Praises instead of punchlines.
7) Give to a mom: Encouragement instead of insults.
8) Give to a mom: Grace instead of glares.
9) Give to a mom: Joy instead of pain.
10) Give to a mom: Jesus instead of judgement.
To those of you who are my confidants, friends, and acquaintances, I pray you would hold me accountable in the same way. I would hope that sister to sister, friend to friend, and mom to mom, that my love would demonstrate itself and that I would "let my words would be few."
Oh, and yes...we are going to have more. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)