My brother felt this one would make the blog...and he was right--just took me a few extra days than usual.
David, my little brother and I decided to present our parents with a puppy for Christmas. They had two shelties until this spring...Sammy, only 7 years old, passed away unexpectedly. So Libby has been the only fur-baby at their house for several months now...except when my brother's beagle visits. Maggie is a Super Beagle. She flies around the house and up and down furniture with the determination and agility rarely seen in a dog. She also loves to cuddle, and my mom has really loved that as her shadow is no longer here with her. She threatened to steal Maggie from David, and David and I decided to present Mom with her own Super Beagle.
Our dad wasn't keen on the idea, but as Mom said, If it's done, what can he do? I'm not sure she believed we were actually serious when we posed the possibility to her, but she should know better by now. Libby was her 30th wedding anniversary gift.
David found a breeder in Forney, TX with the most photogenic pups I have ever seen and the price was right. We found time on Saturday to fetch the dog for our parents.
We had a small window of time. We had to meet the man in Hillsboro (long side story, not important) and get back for a Christmas party at my house. We made it to Hillsboro without incident, though I was not feeling particularly well. We contacted the breeder again to discover that he could not leave Forney until 3 pm. It was 1:30 pm and we did have that party to get back to. We could get to Forney from Hillsboro before he would even be leaving.
So we jumped in the truck and headed to Forney. Meanwhile, I started feeling even worse...achy, hot flashes, waves of nausea. And Brian was at home, minding the turkey I planned to serve as the main course at the party.
In Forney, we met the man at the Wal-Mart. As we waited we observed a few similar puppy transactions happening. Tis the season. When he took the sleepy little guy from the carrier in the back seat of his truck, I was sold immediately. He was beautfiul. Just nine weeks old. David paid the man and away we went, Puppy wrapped in a blanket in my lap.
I was really struggling now. I had eaten breakfast, but the knot in my stomach told me that eating anything else was not a good plan. It was only about 40 minutes back to my house, thankfully.
David gave me the puppy to keep until that night when we could present him to my parents. I jumped out the truck, puppy in one hand, purse in the other. As soon as I hit the ground, I knew I had about 30 seconds to get to the bathroom.
I burst through the door, made it past my own curious dogs in a flash, slammed the bathroom door behind me so I could toss the beagle on the floor and fall in front of the toilet...nick of time.
After I felt a little better, I took him in to show Brian who approved wholeheartedly. The dog is exquisite.
I laid in bed, wishing for death, for the next few hours until my parents arrived. My mother's expression was worth the entire trip. And my dad came around about 12 hours later. Now he is my dad's best buddy and my mother's pride and joy.
Money and an afternoon well spent.
P.S. They tried on several names (Nick, Boudreaux,) but settled on Beau.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Christmas Confession
Ok, so I cleaned the house yesterday...a usual weekend chore. Looks pretty spiffy. Finally got a mirror for the mantel so the funky "modern art" of the tv mount is gone and the holes it left are covered up...a year after we move in to this house. Better late than never, right?
And as I started thinking about the next two weeks, I decided when I woke up this morning that today is as good a time as any to decorate for Christmas. All right, all right. Don't judge! Next week my schedule is crazy, and I know perfectly well my mother will want help with her house. I have three parties scheduled at my house the first weekend in December.
So why not today? Brian grumbled a little bit about getting the decorations out of the attic...something about taking one holiday at a time. And believe me, I hate that Thanksgiving seems to get shortchanged these days, but I try to see it this way...Thanksgiving is the warm up for Christmas. Family time and being together in a beautifully decorated house is important! And the house looks very festive...or is beginning to. I need to pick up a few more things to really get it in shape, but that's just one more reason to get everything out before the parties start...I need time to get the rest of my decorations. (Not that Brian knows that yet...)
And I am giving Brian a reprieve from the outside lights until next weekend. He seemed satisfied with that. So while he watched the Military Channel, I decorated around him. By 11 am, we were in full Tis-the-Season-mode. And yes, I felt a little like that crazy blonde on the Target commercial...
It was bittersweet this year as I decorated. This is our first Christmas without my grandparents. With such a large family, no time of year meant more than this. We savored our time together each year with my grandparents overseeing the festivities, even when they could no longer host or plan them.
One of the things I received from their house was the handmade felt ornaments I made for their Christmas tree a few years ago. There are about twenty of them, and I cried as I put them on our tree. If their loss was not real to me yet, it certainly is now. The ornaments comfort me in a way; my grandmother loved them. I moved their picture into the living room so they could see the tree. Weird? Maybe, but not even Brian's cancer affected me the way losing my grandparents has.
And as much as I love this time of year (you should have seen how excited I was Friday night when I discovered that 103.7 had FINALLY started their Christmas music!), it is forever changed and I feel like I am still finding the way to make the most of it. That's what Nonnie and Grandpa would want, I know.
So, maybe I started the season a little early. I just needed to find the love and peace of this time of year as soon as possible.
And as I started thinking about the next two weeks, I decided when I woke up this morning that today is as good a time as any to decorate for Christmas. All right, all right. Don't judge! Next week my schedule is crazy, and I know perfectly well my mother will want help with her house. I have three parties scheduled at my house the first weekend in December.
So why not today? Brian grumbled a little bit about getting the decorations out of the attic...something about taking one holiday at a time. And believe me, I hate that Thanksgiving seems to get shortchanged these days, but I try to see it this way...Thanksgiving is the warm up for Christmas. Family time and being together in a beautifully decorated house is important! And the house looks very festive...or is beginning to. I need to pick up a few more things to really get it in shape, but that's just one more reason to get everything out before the parties start...I need time to get the rest of my decorations. (Not that Brian knows that yet...)
And I am giving Brian a reprieve from the outside lights until next weekend. He seemed satisfied with that. So while he watched the Military Channel, I decorated around him. By 11 am, we were in full Tis-the-Season-mode. And yes, I felt a little like that crazy blonde on the Target commercial...
It was bittersweet this year as I decorated. This is our first Christmas without my grandparents. With such a large family, no time of year meant more than this. We savored our time together each year with my grandparents overseeing the festivities, even when they could no longer host or plan them.
One of the things I received from their house was the handmade felt ornaments I made for their Christmas tree a few years ago. There are about twenty of them, and I cried as I put them on our tree. If their loss was not real to me yet, it certainly is now. The ornaments comfort me in a way; my grandmother loved them. I moved their picture into the living room so they could see the tree. Weird? Maybe, but not even Brian's cancer affected me the way losing my grandparents has.
And as much as I love this time of year (you should have seen how excited I was Friday night when I discovered that 103.7 had FINALLY started their Christmas music!), it is forever changed and I feel like I am still finding the way to make the most of it. That's what Nonnie and Grandpa would want, I know.
So, maybe I started the season a little early. I just needed to find the love and peace of this time of year as soon as possible.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Catching Up
Brian worked the NASCAR race this past weekend, and rather than spend the weekend by myself at home, I made plans to meet up with a dear friend in New Braunfels.
Susan and I go back to our college days when my brother introduced us. We lived together for several years, until I got too cranky to be a good roommate. I take responsibility for our "break up." I was immature and difficult to get along with. I had a lot of growing up to do.
Fortunately, like all my dearest friends, she eventually found it in her heart to forgive my many...uh, quirks... and reconnect.
That's what Saturday was all about. We met in New Braunfels and headed into Gruene for the day. We have a special affinity for Gruene, having seen Pat Green at Gruene Hall on St. Patrick's Day about 11 or so years ago. Great times. She still has the tee shirt. I often wonder what happened to mine. Sigh.
Lunch at the Grist Mill...their homemade wine coolers are delish. Then a bit of shopping. Finally, just sitting under a big ol' tree, sipping wine and watching the world go by. It was the weekend of the Tour De Gruene, a bike race, so the tiny town was brimming over with cyclists. Parking was quite the adventure. The people watching was even better than usual though. We found a new favorite wine from Dripping Springs to add to our list at the little wine store.
We talked about her new relationship since her divorce. We talked about getting older and weight gain and the disturbing little aches and pains we experience now when we get out of bed each morning. We talked about our illnesses and recent procedures. We reveled in being fellow liberals. We filled in all the gaps since we had last been close.
It was a truly great day. After a short siesta, we went to dinner at McAdoo's (where they had my favorite wine New Age) and then had pumpkin bread pudding with brandy sauce at a bakery called Two Tarts with the best cup of coffee I have had in...maybe my whole life.
On my way home, I pondered the rekindled friendship and how worth the 3 hour drive it was. I pondered how lucky I am to have my friend back when she might have stayed lost to me.
In a month when we consider carefully for what we are thankful, I can say without hesitation that Susan is high on my list. Friends who have known you through the good, bad, and ugly are too precious a gift to waste. I am so grateful that my friend has returned to my life. We don't often get do overs and I don't intend to waste my opportunity.
Susan and I go back to our college days when my brother introduced us. We lived together for several years, until I got too cranky to be a good roommate. I take responsibility for our "break up." I was immature and difficult to get along with. I had a lot of growing up to do.
Fortunately, like all my dearest friends, she eventually found it in her heart to forgive my many...uh, quirks... and reconnect.
That's what Saturday was all about. We met in New Braunfels and headed into Gruene for the day. We have a special affinity for Gruene, having seen Pat Green at Gruene Hall on St. Patrick's Day about 11 or so years ago. Great times. She still has the tee shirt. I often wonder what happened to mine. Sigh.
Lunch at the Grist Mill...their homemade wine coolers are delish. Then a bit of shopping. Finally, just sitting under a big ol' tree, sipping wine and watching the world go by. It was the weekend of the Tour De Gruene, a bike race, so the tiny town was brimming over with cyclists. Parking was quite the adventure. The people watching was even better than usual though. We found a new favorite wine from Dripping Springs to add to our list at the little wine store.
We talked about her new relationship since her divorce. We talked about getting older and weight gain and the disturbing little aches and pains we experience now when we get out of bed each morning. We talked about our illnesses and recent procedures. We reveled in being fellow liberals. We filled in all the gaps since we had last been close.
It was a truly great day. After a short siesta, we went to dinner at McAdoo's (where they had my favorite wine New Age) and then had pumpkin bread pudding with brandy sauce at a bakery called Two Tarts with the best cup of coffee I have had in...maybe my whole life.
On my way home, I pondered the rekindled friendship and how worth the 3 hour drive it was. I pondered how lucky I am to have my friend back when she might have stayed lost to me.
In a month when we consider carefully for what we are thankful, I can say without hesitation that Susan is high on my list. Friends who have known you through the good, bad, and ugly are too precious a gift to waste. I am so grateful that my friend has returned to my life. We don't often get do overs and I don't intend to waste my opportunity.
Therapy
So, after the MRI, I reported to an orthopedic doctor. He said he believed it would be best for me to go to physical therapy for a bit to speed up the healing in my calf. Evidently the tear in my muscle is not severe, but weeks of rest at the minimum is the only way to reverse the damage I have done now. And rest plus therapy means I am back on the treadmill that much faster.
And as I honestly miss the luxury of running out my stress, I am willing to put in the work. I reported to therapy last week early on a Wednesday morning. My therapist is little, blonde, adorable. Conveniently she forgets to count my reps on exercises, so often if I am not counting for us, I do more than she prescribes. Though something tells me that she would not consider that a bad thing.
I am building the heck out of my right leg, so at times I will do the exercises on the left as well. I certainly don't want to have my right leg to look and feel awesome and be lopsided on the left because I was too lazy to work it, too.
In addition to the deep stretches and heel raises, I also get an ultrasound treatment and an ice massage. The ultrasound is no biggie. The jelly is a little cold, but it actually feels pretty good. The ice massage...that's different. They have frozen water in a styrofoam cup and the therapist holds the cup so that the ice is on the affected body part and rubs the ice all over. You go through several stages...severe cold (and I mean COLD, people), burning from the cold and numbness. It takes about 6 minutes to get to numb. And it's a long six minutes, I can tell you. But you feel as though you have accomplished something by hanging in for that long.
Then comes the kineseotape. It doesn't hurt or anything, but I find that my leg doesn't dig stuff being stuck to it. The tape keeps coming up long before it's supposed to. Sigh.
So, I have at least another week and a half before I bid adieu to my new friends at therapy. If it weren't for the traffic and construction, I believe I would want to continue to go to therapy long after my prescribed sessions are over. But as it adds to my already full plate pretty significantly, I am eager for the day I am back on the treadmill in the mornings instead of preparing myself for my ice massage.
And as I honestly miss the luxury of running out my stress, I am willing to put in the work. I reported to therapy last week early on a Wednesday morning. My therapist is little, blonde, adorable. Conveniently she forgets to count my reps on exercises, so often if I am not counting for us, I do more than she prescribes. Though something tells me that she would not consider that a bad thing.
I am building the heck out of my right leg, so at times I will do the exercises on the left as well. I certainly don't want to have my right leg to look and feel awesome and be lopsided on the left because I was too lazy to work it, too.
In addition to the deep stretches and heel raises, I also get an ultrasound treatment and an ice massage. The ultrasound is no biggie. The jelly is a little cold, but it actually feels pretty good. The ice massage...that's different. They have frozen water in a styrofoam cup and the therapist holds the cup so that the ice is on the affected body part and rubs the ice all over. You go through several stages...severe cold (and I mean COLD, people), burning from the cold and numbness. It takes about 6 minutes to get to numb. And it's a long six minutes, I can tell you. But you feel as though you have accomplished something by hanging in for that long.
Then comes the kineseotape. It doesn't hurt or anything, but I find that my leg doesn't dig stuff being stuck to it. The tape keeps coming up long before it's supposed to. Sigh.
So, I have at least another week and a half before I bid adieu to my new friends at therapy. If it weren't for the traffic and construction, I believe I would want to continue to go to therapy long after my prescribed sessions are over. But as it adds to my already full plate pretty significantly, I am eager for the day I am back on the treadmill in the mornings instead of preparing myself for my ice massage.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
My Next Adventure
So...confession time. I have gained 30 pounds since Brian and I got married. And while I am happily married, I am miserable in my own skin. I have never weighed this much..even CLOSE to this much in my life. My metabolism hasn't just slowed down...it has SHUT down the flippin' factory completely...or so it seems.
Brian lovingly calls me his own personal linebacker. Oh no he didn't!! I knew he was kidding, but it kinda hurt anyway.
I drink one cup of coffee in the morning and water the rest of the day..unless you count the glass of wine I have while making dinner...
I take my lunch every day and usually make a salad and eat yogurt. EVERY day.
I stopped making the Southern dinners I was brought up to make and cut out the red meat.
My running was improving as never before until a month ago when I severely...let's say strained until I get the MRI results... my right calf muscle. It's painful just sittting here, forget running or even walking for exercise.
So that is definitely not helping. What the heck, man? And though I thought I was eating pretty well...one day's entry on the Weight Watchers website told me the real story. I am still not doing enough.
My cholesterol is much higher than I would like...part heredity, part my choices.
To top it all off...it's Halloween time and there is candy galore out there tempting me at every turn. And if it's Halloween, that means that Thanksgiving and Christmas are not far behind. We do some good cookin' round here for the holidays.
I know there are women out there who would kill to be this size, but what really matters is how I feel about myself. I know I will never be a size six again. That's ok. I get it...I'm on the back side of my 30s. I just want to be a size that I am comfortable with again. Perfect 10, perhaps?
I am going to do whatever it takes to get this weight off...within reason, of course. My goal is to look great for the Pat Green concert in December. Two months to get a good start on looking fine again? I can do it!
Brian lovingly calls me his own personal linebacker. Oh no he didn't!! I knew he was kidding, but it kinda hurt anyway.
I drink one cup of coffee in the morning and water the rest of the day..unless you count the glass of wine I have while making dinner...
I take my lunch every day and usually make a salad and eat yogurt. EVERY day.
I stopped making the Southern dinners I was brought up to make and cut out the red meat.
My running was improving as never before until a month ago when I severely...let's say strained until I get the MRI results... my right calf muscle. It's painful just sittting here, forget running or even walking for exercise.
So that is definitely not helping. What the heck, man? And though I thought I was eating pretty well...one day's entry on the Weight Watchers website told me the real story. I am still not doing enough.
My cholesterol is much higher than I would like...part heredity, part my choices.
To top it all off...it's Halloween time and there is candy galore out there tempting me at every turn. And if it's Halloween, that means that Thanksgiving and Christmas are not far behind. We do some good cookin' round here for the holidays.
I know there are women out there who would kill to be this size, but what really matters is how I feel about myself. I know I will never be a size six again. That's ok. I get it...I'm on the back side of my 30s. I just want to be a size that I am comfortable with again. Perfect 10, perhaps?
I am going to do whatever it takes to get this weight off...within reason, of course. My goal is to look great for the Pat Green concert in December. Two months to get a good start on looking fine again? I can do it!
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Carving Pumpkins
Our family has many holiday traditions. Our Halloween tradition began about 6 or 7 years ago. We get together on a weekend before Halloween and carve pumpkins.
My brother, Brian and I go to a pumpkin patch and carefully select the perfect pumpkins. Mom and Dad get dinner together while we are out. Mom finds the patterns from last year, and just in case they are in a safe place she can't remember, I always buy one or two more books with the carving utensils.
My nephew is five now, but his first pumpkin was carved when he was about 6 months old. That Halloween, he was dressed in his brand new Halloween pjs and we sat him on the table. We put his hands in the goo and seeds from the inside of the pumpkins. The look on his face was one of joy and confusion as he squished the slime between his little fingers.
Brian looks so cute as he concentrates on getting the pattern just right. You can almost see his tongue sticking out a little to one side as he focuses on the task. I usually just get to pick the pattern and he takes over from there. I wouldn't mind doing a little of the carving and each year I think I should just get one for each of us, but I never do. I suppose I secretly enjoy the zeal with which he attacks the project, even if I don't really get to help much. Besides, if the knife slips and he cuts something important off, I get to blame him for the oops. Hee hee.
This year, we went together to the Farmer's Market to select our canvases. I love the fall and everything that goes with it, so I couldn't resist some of the smaller gourds and dried corn for an arrangement on the mantle. I love the different textures on the surfaces of the squashes and the colors--greens, golds, and oranges. Zachary wanted a little pumpkin too, selecting an orange and white one. He insisted that this one would not be carved, however.
It was difficult, but we got Zachary to eat a bit of dinner before we started our project. We spread an old shower curtain on Mom and Dad's table and set out the bowls, spoons and knives. Zachary and I had already selected the patterns we wanted to use this year. A bat for me, a goofily grinning jack-o-lantern for Z-man. David went out on his own and drew a "T" for the Texas Rangers baseball team. An added addition to the family tradition this year was watching the Rangers clinch the right to play in the World Series for the second year in a row.
Brian and David got to work cutting the tops off, so we could clean out the insides of the pumpkins. Zachary jumped around in the background wearing his new Halloween outfit, a cowboy vest and chaps. The pumpkins were very thick, so the boys had to work to get them cleaned out.
When we started carving, the thickness of the pumpkins continued to prove challenging, and Zachary, despite my mother's best efforts, was bent on carving his pumpkin himself. He sawed quickly but not so carefully at times, as his motor skills are developing. In order to keep him from being upset, David and Brian got out the toothpicks and did a little reconstructive surgery to save the pumpkin.
We had one more pumpkin to go, and Zachary wanted to help with that one as well. The game was too good to miss, so my dad was reluctant to help him. No worries. I can listen to the game and help carve, as Zachary suggested in the first place. It's all about him, you know.
Zachary did a pretty good job sawing on the pattern, but by then his interest had dwindled. He was more interested in eating now that he was finally hungry and putting his costume back on.
Unfortunately despite my best efforts, I broke off an important part of the last pumpkin, and though we did some reconstruction with toothpicks, I suspect that it won't last long.
Ultimately, we had quality family time, and the Rangers are on their way to the World Series. Now, that's a tradition worth keeping.
My brother, Brian and I go to a pumpkin patch and carefully select the perfect pumpkins. Mom and Dad get dinner together while we are out. Mom finds the patterns from last year, and just in case they are in a safe place she can't remember, I always buy one or two more books with the carving utensils.
My nephew is five now, but his first pumpkin was carved when he was about 6 months old. That Halloween, he was dressed in his brand new Halloween pjs and we sat him on the table. We put his hands in the goo and seeds from the inside of the pumpkins. The look on his face was one of joy and confusion as he squished the slime between his little fingers.
Brian looks so cute as he concentrates on getting the pattern just right. You can almost see his tongue sticking out a little to one side as he focuses on the task. I usually just get to pick the pattern and he takes over from there. I wouldn't mind doing a little of the carving and each year I think I should just get one for each of us, but I never do. I suppose I secretly enjoy the zeal with which he attacks the project, even if I don't really get to help much. Besides, if the knife slips and he cuts something important off, I get to blame him for the oops. Hee hee.
This year, we went together to the Farmer's Market to select our canvases. I love the fall and everything that goes with it, so I couldn't resist some of the smaller gourds and dried corn for an arrangement on the mantle. I love the different textures on the surfaces of the squashes and the colors--greens, golds, and oranges. Zachary wanted a little pumpkin too, selecting an orange and white one. He insisted that this one would not be carved, however.
It was difficult, but we got Zachary to eat a bit of dinner before we started our project. We spread an old shower curtain on Mom and Dad's table and set out the bowls, spoons and knives. Zachary and I had already selected the patterns we wanted to use this year. A bat for me, a goofily grinning jack-o-lantern for Z-man. David went out on his own and drew a "T" for the Texas Rangers baseball team. An added addition to the family tradition this year was watching the Rangers clinch the right to play in the World Series for the second year in a row.
Brian and David got to work cutting the tops off, so we could clean out the insides of the pumpkins. Zachary jumped around in the background wearing his new Halloween outfit, a cowboy vest and chaps. The pumpkins were very thick, so the boys had to work to get them cleaned out.
When we started carving, the thickness of the pumpkins continued to prove challenging, and Zachary, despite my mother's best efforts, was bent on carving his pumpkin himself. He sawed quickly but not so carefully at times, as his motor skills are developing. In order to keep him from being upset, David and Brian got out the toothpicks and did a little reconstructive surgery to save the pumpkin.
We had one more pumpkin to go, and Zachary wanted to help with that one as well. The game was too good to miss, so my dad was reluctant to help him. No worries. I can listen to the game and help carve, as Zachary suggested in the first place. It's all about him, you know.
Zachary did a pretty good job sawing on the pattern, but by then his interest had dwindled. He was more interested in eating now that he was finally hungry and putting his costume back on.
Unfortunately despite my best efforts, I broke off an important part of the last pumpkin, and though we did some reconstruction with toothpicks, I suspect that it won't last long.
Ultimately, we had quality family time, and the Rangers are on their way to the World Series. Now, that's a tradition worth keeping.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Losing the Iron Skillet
My beloved Horned Frogs are having a tough season. They really seem to miss the seniors from last year that helped dominate every team they encountered.
They lost yesterday to an old rival--SMU. The schools trade custody of an iron skillet, the symbol of winning the game. We didn't have to lose that game. The boys had any number of opportunities to get the job done, but ultimately they couldn't do it.
So, at home in our nice new stadium, we had to hand over the skillet. Only the second time in 10 years. And it was hard to see on Facebook...all my SMU friends celebrating, though if TCU can't be successful, at least SMU can be.
But this morning as I poured my coffee, I remembered my favorite SMU fans. My grandparents. I miss them so much it's painful still sometimes, but this morning I had to smile. They loved sports..football best of all. And Grandpa loved his Ponies..even through the death penalty and regrowth years. They were thrilled get to June Jones from Hawaii; they had high hopes for what he could do for their program.
So this morning, my Frogs may be one step closer to the Poulan-Weedeater Independence Bowl instead of the Rose Bowl, but my grandparents are having quite the celebration in heaven, I have no doubt. Heaven help my Horned Frogs...Nonnie and Grandpa--would you put in a word?
They lost yesterday to an old rival--SMU. The schools trade custody of an iron skillet, the symbol of winning the game. We didn't have to lose that game. The boys had any number of opportunities to get the job done, but ultimately they couldn't do it.
So, at home in our nice new stadium, we had to hand over the skillet. Only the second time in 10 years. And it was hard to see on Facebook...all my SMU friends celebrating, though if TCU can't be successful, at least SMU can be.
But this morning as I poured my coffee, I remembered my favorite SMU fans. My grandparents. I miss them so much it's painful still sometimes, but this morning I had to smile. They loved sports..football best of all. And Grandpa loved his Ponies..even through the death penalty and regrowth years. They were thrilled get to June Jones from Hawaii; they had high hopes for what he could do for their program.
So this morning, my Frogs may be one step closer to the Poulan-Weedeater Independence Bowl instead of the Rose Bowl, but my grandparents are having quite the celebration in heaven, I have no doubt. Heaven help my Horned Frogs...Nonnie and Grandpa--would you put in a word?
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