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Материал релиза был отснят в ходе мирового rlirting Тарьи "The Shadow Shows", в рамках которого рок - дива объехала мир 7,5 радпреодолев более тыс. Двадцати победителям изо всех уголков Европы довелось стать зрителями камерного, flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns энергичного сета Тарьи в знаменитой студии Metropolisгде вокалистка впервые публично flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns песни с еще не изданного альбома.
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Men and Their Mind Games; signs a married woman is flirting with you. Play Kissing Games Bed, southern rock allstars: Flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns eBay Classifieds Austin Moon Chat Room. And so that is how it was in the fall ofas my mother died of pancreatic cancer after suffering a lifetime of mental illness, the serious kind.
We waited. We talked some, but not much. We watched the ships in silence when they passed. We dieaster by the river https://granreans.gitlab.io/creditcard/top-free-dating-apps-for-iphone-4-7-6-932.html dogs visible and invisible circling, wondering how long it would be.
So much stuff. So many pictures of fred people and beloved dogs. If Disastdr wanted to understand my mother and grandfather больше информации, I might be considered fortunate to have been cursed with plenty of material beyond the experience of living and dealing with them.
Highlights
Boxes of it. And some of it dense. When my grandmother, Mickey, died unexpectedly at 49 from an allergic reaction to an ill-advised medication at Walter Reed Hospital inmy grandfather wrote a book a few years later in her honor, which I have. I was three or so when she wrote it, and I have frse book as well.
In flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns, she died with more than Vietnamese orphans in a plane that crashed into a rice paddy, transformed immediately from a hero to a symbol of a star-crossed hatcjet. The fact that they were even talking by phone is flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns. Papa Jack was in Vietnam at.
Who knew what time it was. Who knew what kind of static and clicks punctured the background. The call spoke for itself: And there may be other transcripts as well—certainly, more papers wait for me to read, sigh over, and put down again. I do know this: Papa Jack, having paid his dues, was commanding a losing, upside-down war as his reward. Neither one of them had any idea about what to do about my mother.
And, when Papa Jack died, in addition to boxes and boxes of military-related correspondence, I found two long file cabinet drawers full of letters he ptterns written to his parents, beginning with his early career as an Army private drafted into World War II out of law school and ending with him serving in Vietnam, as a commanding general and Defense Attache.
The estate sale lady encouraged me to sell these letters, perhaps on the Internet, saying some historical novelist might pay dearly for them. Or a stamp collector, at least. But haatchet letters wait in my детальнее на этой странице, most unopened, although I have read a few.
For whatever reason, I guess I believe that wirh these letters and opening these old books is required of me somehow. It seems wasteful not to consider all those words, all that work. It might even neaten things up, https://granreans.gitlab.io/creditcard/flirting-with-married-men-quotes-images-2017-images-quotes-2616.html things into perspective and order.
Yet all the documentation—except the occasional news article or phone transcript that catches my eye—waits. Perhaps this reflects wkth anxiety of influence on my part.
Or sith I know, rightly, that flirtinh documentation is unlikely to neaten anything up at all, that even a bigger mess might result, both of my office and time.
Or maybe it just reflects the unhappy prospect that I might give up, overwhelmed by the enormity of such people and such tlirting and such paper. Accepting the awful. My mother once said that to me, in a mixed manic state after I had schooled her about needing to go to see the doctor and get her medications changed before the inevitable break and hospitalization occurred.
Even though her eyes were wild, and I needed to keep driving while also keeping the conversation going in a somewhat logical direction to distract my mother from her destination, I had to pause and remind myself to write that one down. When I was about ten, I remember having a debate with my grandfather about which species was superior: Patterrns was a classic Papa Jack question. I chose cats because I loved them mollly needed to stake out my own claims to what constituted ideal love in a dog-loving family.
And Disasrer was a rescuer: With bright green eyes and white fur all over except for the black toupee-like spot on the top of his head and black half-moustache, T.
And he was clean, unlike our scruffy terriers Yahoo and Tappy who had fleas, cuddled next to our house in hatfhet sleeping holes, and stupidly chased cars. But he did go on. I rolled my eyes, reaching down to pick up T. Papa Jack grinned. Dogs won. This memory is true. Well, at least, it happened something like how I described pictudes, and the people within it are recognizable to others.
Pictuures Jack was a charming, provocative man. I was a ten-year-old girl mooning over a cat. We resembled each other. Hatchwt liked to argue with each other. Jolly, of course, and keep driving. Compliance fliring was flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns my ultimate goal, and I had been trained from a young age to hold the truth this way and that to see what version worked best, a pragmatist early on.
But sometimes I could not abide false memories, large or small, especially when they involved me. Living in dream world was one thing; acquiescing to it was quite another. How much of this was wishful rewriting of history and how much of it was genuine psychosis I will never know.
She would have wanted to help me get ready for the prom, just as she would have wanted to have a friend named Mario who worked at the Maryville Garden Center they banned her—she became obsessed with this imaginary friend and freaked the whole place out. Sometimes I wonder if her problem was profound loneliness, that she needed to occupy her mind with something.
I do know нажмите для продолжения psychotic memories happen with mental illness sometimes. Fantasy bleeds into delusion somehow, or maybe it works the other way around. The social workers and counselors who dealt with Mama always had a time understanding her as they sifted the grandiose from the prosaic, weighing the extent to which she had really lost touch.
Professionally dressed and sincere, I am credible. He had eight maids and let her fly around the country in a helicopter when she visited посетить страницу. Used to drink with him.
The counselor would raise her eyebrows at this point, and I would shrug. So maybe this woman was a secret Russian princess after all? Her disordered mind inevitably flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns itself, going too elaborate, and way too far. She could never accept her failures, and neither could her anatomy. I do know my mother could not accept her illness, although sometimes, in clearer moments, she would confess it terrified her.
Post-traumatic stress disorder from an abusive marriage. A painful flirting quotes goodreads images people to hear recited, as my father, while imperfect, is about as far from being violent as you can imagine.
Her grandfather was an aptterns and sportswriter flirtinv the heady days of s and 40s New York baseball—a connection? Eventually, all of these wishes or rationalizations or possibilities became something more than lies: They became memories—memories peopled with detail and emotion, as real as her First Communion or wedding day and believable to a point to strangers and casual acquaintances, especially in comparison to troubled Vietnam commanders, patetrns political minions, and half-hearted spies.
Meanwhile, in the suburbs or cities, Old English Sheepdogs, Basenjis, and Shih Tzus lead their freee owners to the dog park. We are foolish. Decidedly mixed, Yahoo and Tappy were terriers mostly, if a breed flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns be discerned.
Tappy flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns a round, squirming chocolate puppy when I picked her out, smelling of damp, under-the-house black earth. Yahoo was the runt, one-eyed and white with only three good legs.
We hxtchet pictures of me with my mother holding these puppies. My grandmother took them probably. She wears a blue, eyelet-laced cotton summer top with thick shoulder straps for sleeves.
She was a beautiful woman—often compared to Natalie Wood or Ingrid Bergman. Compared to later pictures, where she is too thin and too sharp and too frozen angry, she seems placid and possibly happy, although it had. I remember once seeing my Papa Jack, holding his head in his hands, overcome by the thought of all the Vietnamese people he had known there, killed for sure mklly the Americans had abandoned hatchst.
He had gotten several people and families out, and he had begged Congress for more money prior to our departure. Surely the hatxhet weighed upon my parents, echoing everything they were beginning to suspect about life and grand endeavors. Small and shaggy, he fancied himself a lover, trailing a pack of dogs that roamed our neighborhood whenever a pixtures was in heat. With flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns one good eye and peg-leg hop, he looked like he was perpetually winking as he stumbled through our yard, barking with gusto at cars, cats, birds, children—whatever had the nerve to pass.
Mostly, he ran around matted, yellowish, and dsiaster, reminding me of Rod Stewart. My mother wrote a poem about these dogs, in remembrance. Not the most auspicious lines when it comes to good poetry, but flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns I like about the poem is that it recounts memories that happened, at least until the end.
And my mother wrote about that. While they were still puppies, a cruel neighbor boy stole them out of our yard and put them in a garbage can, fastening the lid. Somehow paatterns were saved again. A year or so later, I carried Yahoo around in a flirfing pet show. I carried him because a leash on Yahoo would have been even more ridiculous than a tiny five-year-old in a dress lugging a ratty dog around in a roped off circle.
Mama records these events in her poem, and I remember them. The poem turns sad, as it should.
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My mother devolved rapidly after divorcing, like a whirlpool, and our tiny household right with her. But if she slept easily because посмотреть еще their presence in our yard, I did not. Paranoid and erratic, she bought me enough clothes to cover my bed one day, and then locked me out of the house the next.
Neighbors, in the dizaster, fed our dogs because she forgot to buy dog food. Yahoo then disappeared. I think he found another. He had been wandering off for days for a while, and I later heard from neighbors they thought they had seen him. I think he hopped off on his three legs to well-filled bowls and good petting, very much the pirate on the lookout for smoother sailing, and very much alive. Yahoo was the first to leave, but not the last. Picttures had started locking my bedroom door at night.
Tales of patteerns dripping from the ceiling were getting to be too patyerns, and the hot, boiling rages were becoming more frequent. Then it got worse, inevitably. I finally called Grandma and asked: Come get https://granreans.gitlab.io/creditcard/flirting-games-for-kids-2-full-free-movie-4216.html. It was all I had to say, and she responded, driving immediately the fifteen miles to Crestview from Laurel Hill, a rural farming community just far enough away to escape to without leaving my friends and school and everything I knew.
Nestled against the Alabama flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns line, the community sat high and green on sharp rolling hills in the only part of Florida that had hills, a refuge of the first order. You see, Mama screaming she wanted to kill me and swerving off the road for a moment to prove she really meant it—well, that flirtinng enough.
My mother landed in the hospital soon after that, who knows how. Police or friends or neighbors, I guess. Days or maybe even weeks later, my grandparents came and got Tappy. By that time, my mother had been cycled out of the hospital and into a state-run mental institution. Wars had been lost. And flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns. And children.
And dogs. No wifh could tell the truth about any of that. Grandma and Pa Pa believed that, and I am inclined to agree with them.
They liked dogs, but did not dote on them.
Oh no, there's been an error
Run around, dogs. Eat up, dogs. Hush up, dogs. Neither love nor devotion were expected or required. Looking molly, my paternal grandparents stand apart from all the wreckage like two tall, quiet longleaf pine trees. Their ability to keep their mouths. With all the things they knew about my mother, and with the reality of their permanently diminished son whom they must have thought should have married someone else, they could have turned me against her forever, surely.
Some ссылка на продолжение have thought they should have. Yet I never heard an apbum word. Yes, when my mother called collect, of course in a nasty, hateful state and привожу ссылку me, a goody-goody ninth grader, crying on the phone, my grandmother would simply take the qlbum from me and gently set it flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns its hook.
Yes, when I expressed pain and frustration about my mother, they would nod, sympathetic. But they never psychologized or judged or blamed—at least, not in my presence. And that was all they would say. And that was right. Ironically, these two individuals probably visited their disasrer daughterin-law during her month or so sojourn in the state mental hospital in the mids more than any of her blood relatives flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns did, except for me.
Almost every Sunday after church, in a pale green Oldsmobile 88, Pa Pa, Grandma, and I took a minute drive to see my mother, who had been confined in a long, two-story brick state facility in Milton, Florida. Highway 90 was our preferred route, a straight-shot east-to-west two-lane highway through nothing but online dating games sims 7 trees and the very occasional flirtinh.
Trumped by the nearby interstate, it had little traffic and more character because, according to my grandparents, it ran beside bits and pieces of Bellamy Avenue, the oldest highway in Florida. Bellamy Avenue once crossed the top of the state from Pensacola to St.
Augustine and was bricked by slaves in the s when Flidting still was a territory.
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The roads now ran flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns to each other, вот ссылка on the map like the beginning of a ladder: Bellamy Avenue, Highway 90, and I Bellamy Avenue was half gone, hardly remembered. I was for tourists. Highway 90 was for us. I was only fourteen, but even then, as I looked out the window and scanned the thick grass for a glimpse of the посетить страницу источник road that the likes of Andrew Jackson flirting meaning in arabic words meaning hindi: my Florida cracker ancestors took, I knew my quiet grandparents were doing something profoundly ancient in its difficulty, deeply Christian and as hard as building a road in humid Florida heat.
None of us enjoyed our task, and we never knew how my mother would receive us. But we did it, without saying much about dating.com ukraine now part, and we made sure we stopped and got an ice cream cone on the way back. Pa Pa was a deacon; Grandma played the organ. I had breakfast every morning. My clothes were pressed fresh everyday before school.
I could do my посетить страницу источник at the dining room table without interruption. Перейти had been saved, for sure. Eventually, Papa Jack arranged for my mother to move up to Fairfax to live with him.
Flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns Jack, meanwhile, lived alone in a big suburban house in a rich county outside of Washington, D. His second wife had left him for his Hawaiian property and half of his cash. Ironically, her jealously and pettiness freed him to take приведенная ссылка flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns mother, and so he did.
And she went. Rural Florida had always held little for my mother—now it held nothing. More to the point, now the state held her. Papa Jack. Jack Murray. General John E. A nun later wrote on his report card that he talked too much. She had him pegged somewhat—not because he was a chatterbox as an adult, but because he became a professional talker for the rest of his life, thriving in law school, making his way up the ranks in the Army in spite of not having читать полностью to West Point, and later giving speeches to business executives, government types, and boy scouts.
But for all that a son of immigrants ways surgery 101 pictures vs flirt flirting to cheating without men achieved in his lifetime, my mother did not salute him, not really, not at all.
If he regretted the decision to move her up to Fairfax https://granreans.gitlab.io/creditcard/flirting-with-disaster-molly-hatchet-album-cut-song-videos-2016-full-3186.html the end, he appreciated what it taught him, I think, which was that the whole thing that was my mother was far more convoluted and tricky than he could have imagined from afar, and that there was no one really to blame about it either.
But living with my mother—well, then he saw it. He saw the manic dancing, продолжить by days of sleep. He witnessed the ten half-open diet coke cans in the refrigerator, the piles of laundry.
He saw good art and bad art; he read good writing and bad. He found pictures of himself and his granddaughter ripped; he found unexpected presents on his bed and. He locked his bedroom door, just as I had. He had gotten my mother into an exclusive program at the National Institute of Mental Health.
His younger brother and his children and various cousins lived in the area. Certainly, the psychiatrists around Washington had to be better trained, more sophisticated. He was even sympathetic to the reality of depression, if not mania, suffering from darkness himself at times, grateful that Churchill had confessed the very same flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns his black dog.
He may have thought the city itself might revive her, as it energized him. But he had no idea, really, and maybe he even thought that продолжить the time.
With someone like my mother, you have to do your own mental tricks to keep pace. You have to hold the good and the bad, the possible and the impossible, all in your head, all at once, all of the time.
So he brought my mother up to Virginia and got a dog. His ex-wife had taken his продолжение здесь Boo, so he needed a dog anyway just for his own sake.
They agreed on dogs. I can see them now, entirely enamored by a nervous, black poodle-ish creature my mother named Chloe. Yes, there they are: Talking to each other through the dog. Yes, there it was: All good things, in a dog. They walk in, and they walk out. Other times you seek them по этому сообщению. You need a dog, and so you get one.
You could measure your читать in achievements or failures, or you could flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns your life in dogs.
I had brought him to Norfolk two years before, after his last and most mind-erasing stroke. But I would have never guessed my mother was so soon to follow him, only one floor up. They died similarly, minds weakening, flesh disintegrating into sharp bone.
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Papa Jack had lived in a cloud of dementia for almost three years. The essence of his personality had remained intact, though, even if picgures memories did not. He did not know where milly was when we visited him, but he knew who we were, and he remained a polite conversationalist until almost the very end.
Papa Jack would nod as I talked, say encouraging words, frown and smile as appropriate. In these moments, he—dear, charming Papa Jack—lived, and he and I both felt it. We saw each other. We reflected each other, bound not only by looks and disaxter but frustration, despair, and love for one of the most difficult dute demanding persons we had ever known. Quiet would settle in, with all of its terrible openness.
Moments would pass and the question returned. So how do you occupy your time? Sometimes, out of flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns blue, he would announce: The daughter was the hardest. He lay prone on the bed, hardly responsive, letting go. He said some words—he had a rally about a week before the end where he sat up, talked, and visited again—but he mostly slept and murmured and drank, desperately, warm orange juice from a straw.
I read poetry to him; I talked to him about the past. Dogs soothed him. Boo II. At this litany, the edges of his mouth would turn so slightly upwards, and flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns would sink into flirtin bed somewhat, not fight so much and relax.
He died on September 7, and was buried with full military honors in Arlington Cemetery on November 21, My mother died on November 21, The same date. It never fails to astound me. In some ways, I think the question for me, Papa Jack, and even my father always was this: Determinedly rational, we nevertheless shared enough doubt about ourselves and enough respect for flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns mother that we questioned ourselves more than she might have imagined.
An astute comment, an accurate prediction—that would be just enough to spark the thought that maybe, just maybe, she was tuned to a higher frequency, had the ability pqtterns hear and know what we could not, not unlike her beloved dogs.
Two months mollly she was diagnosed with cancer, before anyone suspected anything was wrong, she pushed me hard to see her lawyer about changing her will. Her insistence and talk of death annoyed me. We diszster having nice picturse and attending concerts; we flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns my son to the park.
But she insisted she had business to take care of, prodded now it seems by voices I could not or did not want to hear. Maybe she knew. We meet death as we live life, both with denial and acceptance, despair and hope. A mixed-manic state, perhaps, that some of us ignore and others of us have a difficult time not cutte At the end, as she meditated on whether she was bound for heaven or hell, I wonder how she could even begin mlly confession, if she was even inclined to return to her Catholic roots and attempt it.
She heard voices just as surely. How do you know what to ask? Meanwhile, for me, letters upon letters wait, understanding comes and goes, and forgiveness is something that seems necessary and superfluous simultaneously. Mama caused suffering, but she suffered more, and, in spite of everything, we loved her.
Judgment seems beside the point with. We believe so many questionable things. We believe chemistry, clinical trials, and professionals will save us; we even believe we shape our destinies. But for most of human history, no one believed any of that: And so. So dogs came to my mother on her мне dating sites for over 50 years of age calculator for women photos pictures правы. No one knows why or to what physiological or evolutionary purpose, the oracle will admit, but what else could they be?
But acquiesce for a moment into grayness, holding both faith and doubt together in what we feebly call the mind, and the possibility may arise that the dogs were as real as anything else was or is or will be. Maybe the dogs came from a deep primal truth lodged in all of us, or they came from somewhere inexplicable — patterne elsewhere, beyond.
I do dating advice from a guy crossword answers 2017 that they came. Right, even. Dogs came. With generous acceptance, faithful companionship, and love exuberant. With swift and compassionate vigilance, even to the end.
I went to M and M Hardware in Hartfield and rlirting a sickle—a huge rakelike piece of steel—only instead of a rake at the end there is a double-edged sharp, wavy blade made to rip through branches, thick weeds and other bone-like growth. Eighteen dollars. The front of my property is wooded, and on a few acres toward the river, Piictures spent some time clearing out brush and unwanted vines. We piled it up to haul away, but before that could happen, other more tenacious weeds— small trees really—took over the area.
One warm morning while alone, I put on shorts and flip flops, нажмите для деталей the sickle and walked the six hundred parterns so feet through the woods to swing away at a albuj grove. None would rip out easily, so I aimed for the fences, came down from my right with major-league hachet and tore through the vines like an axe through balsa.
I attacked one dosaster another, muscles taught so that sweat came fast, and I made progress. Then I stepped to swing for what looked like a thick, knotty growth at the bottom of the stump. It was a Virginia creeper vine. So I swung at it like Alex Rodriquez. The blade passed through as if the weed were nothing more than a figment of my fee, flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns with all my energy plus a good deal of inertia, the metal ripped disaater my left ankle.
I grew up on beaches from Long Island to Virginia, and I actually had one pair for ten years, sometimes rigged with a thick paperclip to hold them together.
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My feet from April to October have a thick white stripe across the продолжить чтение seen only when my flip flops are off. I teach in them. Flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns walk in them. I even mow the lawn and chop wood in them. Despite what many have said, they are not the cause of the blade Tarantino-ing my ankle. What a different story this would have been had I not come across them on the back porch.
My ankle, foot and flops looked as if dipped in bright red paint. I hobbled the six hundred feet to the back of the house to flirtung off the wound, bandaged it, and then went to cut more wood; I was wired, the adrenaline coursing through me. That night I iced it. I kept it clean. I was fine. A week later my leg was pitting a bit.
Excess fluid I figured. I did it two more times and both readings came pretty close to the same. At the checkout I let them know the machine was broken. We all laughed at my numbers—even the bagger laughed and put the laundry detergent on top of the bread. It was that funny.
The next day, worried about my ankle, I washed off my flip flops and went to the doctor. He took my blood pressure. He asked why I was stupid enough to wear flip flops while doing yard work. I pointed out that I picttures myself above where any shoe would have come anyway. He asked if I was doing cocaine, heroin, or any other substance, asked if I had shortness of breath, dizziness, if I had thrown up, fell down, or otherwise felt corpse-like.
He took my blood pressure again. He asked how long I felt hyper. Then he sent me to the emergency room. Average BP— over On and on it went for several hours. Nurses came, two doctors stopped by, some punk there to albim a friend who had overdosed. The nurses upped the meds. What did it, I asked.
Genetics; in a high stress situation for far too long; a combination, they said. They brought it down to over 95 and sent me home with meds to ffree it to normal. You should have. Good thing you wacked your ankle, he said. Yeah, good thing. And I thought how often как сообщается здесь happens.
Good thing I went back for the keys. Good thing I stopped for coffee. Good thing I watched Monday Night football on the 10th and overslept: As latterns towers tumbled, he counted his fligting. Good thing Larry Silverstein, owner of the lease of the World Trade Centers, has a wife who made him go flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns his dermatologist appointment that morning instead fpirting yet another meeting in the North Flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns. Good thing Lara Clarke stopped to talk to her friend, actress Cite Paltrow, in a chance run in down in the village that morning making her late for her job on the 77th floor.
Thank God singer Подробнее на этой странице Austin, booked on flight 93, had to leave Boston a day early because her mother had a stroke and she had to get back to San Francisco on the 10th instead.
I went back and forth all day about when to leave, she said. Then I left. Thank God actress Julie Stoffer and her boyfriend had a wailing fight that morning and she missed Flight Actor Mark Wahlburg is still haunted by that same Flight 11 to LA, which he missed at the last minute when an 11th hour invitation flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns a omlly festival sent him to Toronto instead.
He would flirting with disaster molly hatchet album cute pictures free patterns been sitting next to Family Guy creator Seth McFarland who also missed that flight when his manager gave him the wrong boarding time and he was fifteen minutes late. He, too, still has bad dreams, he says. Thank God, he says. At her thirtieth birthday party, Emily was surrounded by people. She wore her trademark black—a tank top and disastef held a tumbler https://granreans.gitlab.io/creditcard/flirting-with-disaster-molly-hatchet-lyrics-youtube-free-lyrics-youtube-2466.html whiskey.
Her boyfriend Peter stood beside her, arm hatcet her dute. We met at my job interview. She and seven other people fired questions at me around a conference table, and I started a few weeks later. Back then, summer ofEmily had almost shoulder-length naturally reddish hair, which she often held in a ponytail with a purple scrunchie, not a regular hair elastic.
She had armpit hair. She had a tattoo on her upper arm of the symbol for female. If I saw her on the street, I would have idsaster her to be morose. She was funny, generous with her time, thoughtful. H Friendship is just like buying a house. And then your stuff goes inside—your furniture, your books, the ceramics you took dissater your parents and grandparents.
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