Life Is the Stories You Can Tell
  • Life is the Stories You Can Tell
  • Sing His Praises
  • My Creed
  • Books I Love
  • Christmas Letters

Life Is the Stories.....

7/27/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
I recently read an article in the Standard Examiner claiming that life is the stories you can tell.  Actually, come to think of it…..I also wrote the article.   http://www.standard.net/Guest-Commentary/2014/07/22/Top-of-Utah-Voices-Life-is-the-stories-you-can-tell.html     FUN!  And I was paid to write it.  Even more FUN!    

 

The article’s author is brilliant (clearly!!) so I’ve decided to follow her lead and tell a few stories this week.  (Surprise…not!)

 

Old news first….Grace’s pig….Oh my lands!!!   Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who responded with pig advice.    You all are wonderful in multiple ways:  wonderful because you cared, wonderful because you shared, and wonderful because you helped.    Your suggestions led us to supplement her food and to cool her at mid-day and offer her a snack.    It turns out she is a picky pig; she does not like whole milk (8 grams of fat/cup) or hash browns (31 g fat/cup) but she loves doughnuts (11 g fat/doughnut),  facts we learned thanks to Koni’s potato and pastry delivery.  Carlene’s suggestion sent us to Kent’s Market to ask for day-old doughnuts, which they generously donated.    The pig ate five last night.    She is not out-of-the-pig-pen-and-into-the-auction-arena yet but her chances are improving.  Keep praying and we’ll keep pastry-ing.

 

New news now.    Last weekend Lance, his brother Chris, Chris’ son Cooper and Miles backpacked to Long Lake (Uintah National Forest) for an overnight fishing expedition.   The four of them together caught 41 fish; Lance caught 20 by himself.   For Lance the fishing was fabulous; the backpacking not so much.   He described the outing as “the best horrible experience I have ever had.”

 

Lance went fishing again (but not backpacking) this weekend with Miles and my sister’s sons.   The fishing was not as good but the backpacking (actually the complete lack thereof) was much better.

 

My sister Marjorie Watkins, her six children, and their two dogs came to Utah for our almost-annual Women and Children’s Camp.      Monday we pulled into North Fork Campground and found the place completely deserted—not another camper in sight—so we had our pick of spots.   Our site was nearly perfect—three generous tent sites, an open area for croquet, plenty of parking space, lots of shade, enough trees to hang three hammocks, a fabulous view of the mountains, close to flushing toilets and the water spout, and, best of all, no neighbors.   Only a bordering stream could have made it better.

 

After lunch we went water hunting and discovered why our campground was deserted.   Only a mile or so up the road, in Cold Water Canyon, there were also campsites and those campsites bordered a stream.     Ah ha!  

 

I had another “Ah ha” as we hiked the Ben Lomond Peak Trail Tuesday.   I put myself at the back of the line and found myself with four very-NOT-enthusiastic-about-hiking boys.   The whining started almost before the hike started.   “I hate hiking.”  “Why did we have to come?”  “Can we just go back to camp?” “My legs hurt.”   “I can’t do this.”  “This is stupid.”  And on and on and on…..

 

I endured the blasphemy for as long as I could and then started telling them the story of Elijah.   The cacophony ceased most instantly.   I love the story of Elijah—it is so dramatic—and so did they.   “…..The widow fed Elijah with her last cup of meal.  Can you imagine?......Her son died, her only child.  What do you think she said to Elijah?...............Elijah challenged the priests of Baal to a contest.  Everybody loves a good contest, right?  ………..The priests cried to Baal and nothing happened so Elijah suggested they call a little louder and taunted them, telling them that perhaps Baal was napping or maybe out for a stroll.   Funny, huh?……….Elijah poured water all over the altar, soaking everything, and then prayed to our God and asked him to light it on fire.   What do you think happened?”

 

They guessed correctly what happened when Elijah asked God to burn the sacrifice and I guessed correctly what would happen when I told them stories.   Ah the power of stories!   When I finished Elijah’s story I told them Sampson’s, Ruth’s, Jonah’s, and Esther’s.   Old Testament prophets propelled those boys up the mountain.    Not a complaint, not even a whisper of a complaint, came out of their mouths.  In fact, when the front hikers stopped to rest, my four boys chewed them out.   At the start I ruled that I would only tell stories when we were moving; no hiking, no story.   Rest breaks stopped hiking which stopped stories.  “Who said to stop?” six year old Jacob asked, “Get moving!  Let’s go!”

 

“Let’s go” is what my legs told me the first 9 miles of the Handcart Days Half Marathon I ran Thursday with Marjorie and her husband Jason.   “Let’s STOP” is what they told me the next mile.   In fact, they did not just tell me to stop, they screamed at me to stop.  And it was not just my legs—my lungs, my arms, my earlobes, every body part demanded I stop.   I questioned my ability to keep running.  I questioned my sanity for attempting to run.  I questioned a lot of things.  The one thing I did not question was my future as a half marathon runner.   Never again, I vowed, NEVER AGAIN would I run a half marathon.  

 

I slowed WAY down and, somewhere between mile 11 and 12, fell into a plodding pace that I knew would take me to the finish line.    Slow and steady finishes the race.    Thirty minutes later, looking at the race results, I found that I was last in my age division—no surprise there—but that I would be in a different age division next year and, if I were to have the same time next year as I had this year, I would earn a medal.   A medal.   I always was a sucker for a medal.   Almost immediately thoughts about next year’s half marathon raced through my mind.   Maybe I will run another half marathon after all………….  Crazy!

 

Crazy describes this past week with Watkins….crazy, awesome, cool, fabulous, and glorious.   Really we had a great time—hiking, camping, fishing, running (Miles, Tanah, Grace, Lanae, Aliza, and Spencer ran the 5K), a rodeo, a parade, fireworks, and a ReAL soccer game, shakes a Burger Bar, movies in the basement, and Pinochle in the living room….Everyone was quite sad to see the Watkins head south, everyone except Zorro.   Our big, black hound was totally terrorized by their two tiny dogs.   They barkd at him when he came in the kitchen so he hid out in the office.   They hung out by his water dish so he used the toilet as his drinking fountain.   They demanded their share of the scraps in his food dish so he backed off and let them have it all.    He could have chomped them in half with one bite instead they cowered him with multiple yaps.   Turns out that barks are worse than bites after all.

 

Love,

Teresa


Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Croquet concentration
Picture
Two ferocious dogs
Picture
One cowered dog
Picture
Twelve delicious dinners
Picture
Two 5 K runners
Picture
Three half marathon runners
0 Comments

Sea Anemones, Pigs, and Romans

7/20/2014

0 Comments

 
Picture
Sometimes I wish I were a sea anemone…..

 

Considered the “flowers of the sea”, sea anemones are actually carnivorous.    I wouldn’t mind being compared to a flower and I do love a good steak……

 

Sea anemones are related to corals and jellyfish.   It would be great to have coral relatives; I’ve always wanted to visit the Great Barrier Reef……

 

Armed with stinging cells, sea anemones can launch mini-harpoons that inject venom.    As a junior high teacher I can think of many useful applications for this particular adaptation…..

 

Many sea anemones have symbiotic relationships with one-cell algae.   In return for a safety, the algae provide sea anemones with oxygen and glucose.   Imagine having one’s own sweetened oxygen bar!

 

There are some down sides to being a sea anemone—for example its mouth and anus are the same structure (GROSS!)—but there are upsides as well.   The sea anemone stabilizes itself by closing its mouth.  There are a lot of lessons to be learned from that…..

 

The biggest reason for my desires to be a sea anemone is that sea anemones do not worry.   That is,  I am certain they don’t worry.  I haven’t personally interviewed many sea anemones and there is very little actual research gauging their anxiety level but I am fairly confident in my contention.    Sea anemones do not worry.   Their nervous system is primitive; no specialized organs are present.   No brain, no pain, right?

 

How would it be to just sit in warm waters, waiting for one’s food to arrive, without a care in the world?  (Sounds like Cancun…..!)    How nice it would be not to care.     Care is killing me.    If I did not care about improving myself I certainly would not be running a half marathon next Thursday.    If I did not care about Chick, I would not worry about the fact that he is going on a mission and still leaves his clothes and shoes everywhere.   If I did not care about demonstrating my love for my God through obedience, I would not worry about the fact that I hate genealogy.  Oh to be without cares!!

 

It is care about pigs that is haunting me at the moment.  Pigs!  Why care about pigs?

 

We have pigs; three of them.   Grace, Tanah, and Miles invested a great deal of their own money to purchase pigs this spring.  They have continued to pour money into the pigs in the form of food.   Theoretically, theirs was a wise investment because they will be able to sell the pigs at the county fair at significantly higher-than-market-value prices.    However they are able to participate in the country fair only if the pigs make a certain minimum weight.    If the pigs do not weigh at least 220 lbs. on August 5th, they are NOT allowed in the fair as market animals.   Period.

 

Grace loves pigs.  It was Grace’s love for and success with pigs that lured the other children into the business.   Tanah and Miles invested money into their pigs.   Grace invests her heart and soul.   She taught herself about pigs, she teaches others about pigs, and she teaches her pig, walking it and practicing with it for over an hour almost daily.   Grace is a true pig shepherd. 

Grace’s pig is not gaining weight as it should and it is haunting me.   It kills me to imagine the devastation she will feel if her pig doesn’t make weight.    The tears.  The heartache.  The bitter disappointment.   My absolute inability to make it better.    Oh, my darling girl!

 

Knowing that I will be unable to do anything useful at that point, I am doing all that I can to help her pig gain weight now. 

 

Trying to gain weight is a new experience for me……

 

The 4-H leader suggested feeding the pig chocolate cake mix and chocolate milk, both high in fat.   Grace’s pig does not like chocolate.     She and I scanned the junk food section, searching for high fat alternatives.    Win-Co sandwich cookies have 6 g/fat per two cookie serving….SCORE!    The pig does not like those either.    She eats jelly doughnuts though….

 

Hot weather suppresses appetite so Chick installed a mist system to keep the pigs cool.  The hose that supplies their fresh water sits in the sun so I drain it every afternoon to make sure their water is not only fresh but also cool.    We are constantly offering them treats, coaxing them to eat.    The pigs loves over –ripe apricots but apricot’s weight-adding ability is questionable.     

 

Begging a pig to eat is something I never imagined I’d be doing.    And why am I doing it?   Because I care.   If I did not care, I would not be begging, I would not be working, I would not be worrying.   Care is killing me.

 

What to do?   Can one care without being killed by it?    Are love and worry inseparably connected?    Is anxiety a mandatory companion to compassion?   Does the desire to do something besides sit still and wait for food to arrive have to be accompanied by stress?

 

The answer to the first question is yes; the answers to the last three are no, no, and NO.   There is a way to have love without worry, compassion without anxiety, and reaching without stress.    As I thought about my care-for-Grace’s-pig-is-stressing-me-out dilemma, I decided that I just had to let it go.   I could (and am) continuing to care about Grace and her pig and I should (and am) continuing to do everything I can to help that blasted animal gain weight but I had to (and mostly have) let go of the worry.   In the end, what will happen, will happen and I will deal with it as it comes.   If, indeed, her pig does not make weight, it will not be the end of the world, hers or mine.   She’ll lose a lot of money and we’ll both shed some tears but she is young and tough, I am old and tough, and both of us will survive.    

 

We might even learn something.     In fact, I have already learned something.

 

There is an element of trust in letting go.    I let go trusting God that it will all work out.  I don’t know that it will all work out the way I want it to.   Crap happens (and, for sea anemones, it happens in the mouth) and that is a fact.   No, instead I trust that it will all work out well….for me…..eventually.

 

“All things work together for good to them that love God.”  (Romans 8:28)

 

WHAAAA-WHOOO!

 

Love,
Teresa



Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
0 Comments

FOUND:  Paradise!

7/13/2014

1 Comment

 
Picture
Floating in warm ocean waters…… watching a starfish glide across a sandy ocean floor………….Sipping virgin strawberry daiquiris while lounging in the pool………Viewing the Germany vs. USA World Cup soccer game with 200 international soccer enthusiasts……….Eating appetizers with every meal….Unlimited ice cream cones and chocolates for the asking……… Tying ancient American and House of Israel history together in the shadows of Mayan pyramids …..Kissing dolphins, deep sea fishing, and swimming in cenotes………..PARADISE!!!

 

I am not sure who lost paradise but I know for sure who found it.   We did.  Address:  Moon Palace, Cancun, Mexico.

 

Moon Palace is an all-inclusive resort; all types of food—steak, sushi, Asian, Italian, Mexican, Polynesian, hamburgers—at all hours of the day, unlimited drinks—even the pop in the frig in the room, international phone calls, Internet access, bikes, mini-golf, real golf, popcorn at soccer games, arcade games—including wii, Flowrider,  room service at all hours of the day and night, rides up and down the escalator…..all at no extra change; everything was included in the price of the room.   Thanks to Parents Hislop—whose previous wise frugality and current extreme generosity financed the entire trip—we spent eight days and seven nights in paradise.  Absolute paradise.

 

Predictably, there are lots of stories in Paradise……I will share a few.

 

Getting to paradise was tricky.    First Grace left water in her water bottle so she had to exit the secure area, drink the water, and re-navigate the Disney Land length line to re-enter the airport proper.    At another check point I waited and waited and waited for Grace as she stood waiting and waiting and waiting beside the scanning machine.    Finally I asked her what she was waiting for.  “My backpack,” she patiently explained.   “The one you have on your back?” I questioned.   Yes.

 

Unfortunately the backpack did not stay on her back.    In Mexico City we had to retrieve our luggage, go through customs, and then return the luggage to the airline.     Grace put her suitcase and her backpack (that was totally unencumbered by identification of any kind) onto the conveyor belt.    As it whisked out of site, into the vast innards of the Mexico City International Airport, Grace told me what she had done.  “I am sorry,” I said, thinking that she would never see it again.   

 

Her sad eyes coupled with her good attitude forced me to try to get it back.    I wouldn’t have known what to do in English a domestic airport; I really did not know what to do in Spanish in a foreign airport.  Several officials and a few lines later I found someone who promised to help me.    Later (rather than sooner) a man miraculously appeared with the backpack.   I thanked him profusely and reached for the shunted bag.  Not so fast.   Because it had no identification, the Federal Police had to search it before I could reclaim it.


We were able to reclaim Grace’s bag in Mexico City.   We almost had to go to San Salvador to reclaim Grandma.  

 

I was relaxing at Gate 25 in the LAX airport when Tanah approached me.   “Mom,” she said, “Shouldn’t we be getting on the plane?”

“No.”

“Mom, it looks like people are boarding the plane.   We should be getting on.”

“It is not our plane.”

“Mom, people are getting on the plane.  We really need to get in line.”
“Tanah, it is true that people are getting on the plane but it is not our plane.  That plane is going to San Salvador.   We are going to Mexico City.  It is NOT our plane.”


 

Tanah got a very peculiar look on her face, said “I’d better go get Grandma”, and rushed off.  My eyes followed her to the gate where there indeed was Grandma.  The kind airline official, seeing her motorized scooter, was generously giving her pre-boarding privileges and helping her onto the jet way.

 

This was the first time Grandma entertained us but not the last.   

 

The family joined Tanah and I at the sushi bar one night for dinner.    Grandma gamely tried what was clearly unfamiliar food to her.    Grace’s yell “No, Grandma, NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” caused me to look at Grandma just in time to see her put a marble-sized ball of wasabi paste into her mouth.     Her eyes watered and then bugged as her tongue tried to decide what to do.   Decorum demanded that she keep it in her mouth; I yelled “Spit it out, spit it out!”     After what must have seemed like forever to her taste buds, she removed it from her mouth.    All of us were in tears; she from horseradish and we from hilarity.

 

Grandma was entertaining and endearing.   One of the trip’s most tender moments came when Grandma kissed a dolphin.  Seven year old excitement shone through her seventy year old eyes.

 

The children loved their swimming with the dolphins adventure too….and their deep sea fishing adventure….and their cenote swimming adventure……

 

Deep sea fishing was Lance’s “bucket experience” of the trip; he was like a kid in a candy shop as we headed out to sea.   Sea queasy almost from the start, it was a bucket experience for me too…..but a bucket of a whole different kind. 

 

Because deep sea fishing does not always mean deep sea catching and because the adventure was Lance’s dream-come-true, it was decided that Lance would get to reel in the first bite; that way if there were only one bite the entire 8 hours, Lance would get his experience.

 

Lance got his experience.    The first fish hit, the reel whirled as fishing line zipped out, Lance pulled in a fat tuna.   Mission accomplished!     Lance’s grin was a big as the fish.

 

An hour or so later, a second fish bit.   Again, the reel whirled.   This time it was Grace’s turn.   She pulled in a fatter tuna….about 4 times the volume of Lance’s fish.    

 

Another hour passed and there was a third bite.    Tanah grabbed the pole and the guide grabbed a hook.  Together they landed a king mackerel that was twice the size of Grace’s fish that was four times the size of Lance’s.

 

Over an hour later a fourth (and what proved to be the final) fish took the bait.    It was Miles’ turn.    The little scoundrel reeled in a wahoo (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wahoo) that four times bigger than Tanah fish which was two times bigger than Grace’s fish that was four times bigger than Lance’s fish.   The thing was almost as tall as Miles and Miles’ grin was almost as big as the fish.  

 

Miles was thrilled that he caught the biggest fish AGAIN (something he has made a habit of doing).   He also loved swimming in cenotes, a thrill the rest of us shared with him.

 

A cenote is a natural sinkhole resulting from the collapse of limestone bedrock that exposes groundwater underneath. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cenote)   They vary in width and warmth; some are completely open, river-type channels, others are cave-like, their exposure to the atmosphere limited to a comparatively small skylight.   There are an estimated 7,000 cenotes in the Yucatan peninsula; we swam in five of them.

 

Glorious!    It was like swimming in the garden of Eden, except that we had clothes on.  J  We cliff jumped into our first cenote—some of us more easily than others; Miles stepped off the edge without a thought, it took Lance multiple tries.    We snorkeled and kayaked in the second cenote, swam with bats and black fish in the third cenote, and zip lined into the fourth.    

 

I loved the cenotes, particularly the third one where the water was a cool, clear aquamarine color, the sunlight filtering through a small opening in the domed roof created a cool, surreal effect, and thousands of bats clinging to the ceiling and flitting over the water were just plain cool, but the highlight of my trip was the visit to Chichen Itza.

 

Chichen Itza (http://www.chichenitza.com/), selected in 2007 as one of the Seven Wonders of the World, is a large archeological site containing pyramids, temples, and a stadium built by the ancient Mayan people.   Seeing the ruins was incredible in and of itself but it was seeing them through a House of Israel perspective that made the experience a truly powerful one.   

 

The Mayans were post-Book of Mormon era and clearly in a state of apostasy but the influence of their Christ-worshipping ancestors was everywhere.    Helaman (his real name—HONEST!), a Mexican Latter-day Saint guide, taught us the following:

  • Mayan temples were built after the pattern of Solomon’s temple, complete with an outer wall, a washing and purification area, an inner wall, an outer and inner room in the building itself, and an altar in the inner most room.

  • When Christ came, He taught that the time of animal sacrifices was over; that he wanted instead a broken heart and a contrite spirit.    In the inner room of every temple was an altar, a carved figure of a reclining man, holding a platter.   On the platter the Mayans placed the heart, broken of course, of their sacrificial victims.

  • The Mayan calendar had 18 months of 20 days each, with an additional 5 holy days, make 365 days over all.   The ancient Israelites also had 5 holy days.

  • The feathered serpent represented God, feathers indicating the god had descended from heaven.  Moses used a serpent to represent the Savior. 

  • A plain serpent—no feathers, hence fallen to the Earth—represented evil.   The use of a snake to represent Satan runs through Genesis.    Very interesting is the fact that good and evil were both represented by the same form, one from heaven and one fallen.

  • The Mayan worshipped Chaak, a rain god.   Christ is often referred to as the Living Water.

  • Venus, the morning star, was important the the Mayans.  Christ is also associated with the morning star.

  • The temples had baptismal fonts where believers could be baptized by immersion.  The Mayan word for baptism means to become a new person.

  • Tens of thousands of people come to Chichen Itza on the spring equinox to see the shadow of the snake that is cast on the steps of the pyramid, an awesome sight.   However most people miss the real show which comes 16 days later when the entire temple lights up, glowing spectacularly, at sunset.     April 6th has special LDS significance as well.

Wow.  WOW.

 

WOW!  The entire trip was a WOW.   Grandpa and Grandma Hislop gave us the trip of a lifetime and we will enjoy the memories for our the rest of our lifetimes.

 

Paradise: FOUND!!

 

Love,
Teresa



Picture
Helaman and the family at Chichen Itza
Picture
The stadium where an elaborate game of ball was played. Winners earned the right to be sacrificed to the gods.
Picture
Stone carvings of the players decorate the stadium.
Picture
Between the two columns sits the altar where the "broken heart" was offered as a sacrifice.
Picture
Picture
Picture
Images of the feathered serpent are found everywhere.
Picture
Picture
Picture
Lance's smile when he caught the first fish.
Picture
Lance's expression after the other three fish were caught.
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
1 Comment

Called to Serve

7/6/2014

1 Comment

 
Picture
  Self-discipline or sadism?     

We returned home from Cancun (more on this later) on Thursday morning ( July 3rd)  and found Chick’s mission call waiting for him on the kitchen table.      Excitement had been building for nearly six weeks—his mission papers were submitted May 25th—and we were all eager to learn where and when he would be going.  But no.  It was not to be, at least not immediately.

 

Chick decided that he wanted to read his mission call to the accompaniment of fireworks which meant he would not open the envelope until the next evening (July 4th) at 9:30 p.m.    For 36 hours the large white envelope magneted to the refrigerator door tantalized us……

 

That is, it tantalized most of us…..   Dear Tanah had to work the evening of July 4th and was more than a little bummed that she would miss the family, the fireworks, and the mission call revelation.  Dear Chick, in a move that was more than generous, let Tanah secretly and discretely open his mission call on the condition that she tell no one.     Friday morning she steamed the envelope open, read the call, re-sealed the envelope, and then walked around the house with a very self-satisfied, smug look on her face.     The rest of us, including Chick, had to wait for the fireworks.

 

We watched the fireworks at the Gibson home where my saintly sister-in-laws, Jill and Sallie, posted a banner and maps of the USA, Europe, and the world on Jill’s garage door.   After guessing where he would be called and just before the physical fireworks started, Chick dramatically ripped open the envelope and deliberately read the enclosed letter.

 

“Dear Elder Hislop:  You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  You are assigned to labor in the Washington Everett Mission….You should report to the Provo Missionary Training Center on Wednesday, October 1, 2014.   You will prepare to teach the gospel in the English language…..”

 

Seldom have I seen Chick so excited.     Grinning widely and prancing wildly, he gave us hugs and high fives before disappearing inside to call friends and family from Florida (“I think I woke Uncle Brad up….”) to California (Uncle Blaine said “Cool”) to Issaquah (My mission is only an hour away from Uncle Wright).  My parents, who are on a service mission in Belfair, WA, are also very close to Everett.

 

It appears our prayers for a great mission president were answered.    Wright knows President Mark Bonham and speaks highly of him.   Chris has met him and Sallie’s cousin worked with him.   

 

On drive home Chick sang “Everett, Washington.   Everett , Washington…..is where I’m  going on my misss-ssion!”

 

My heart is full; full of gratitude for a son who is so excited about his mission call and full of appreciation for all of you who have sincerely supported him.   Thank you for answering the phone after 9 p.m., for returning his phone calls eagerly, for texting repeatedly, and for making his call opening an event.   Thank you, thank you, thank you validating our son with your interest and enthusiasm.

 

October 1st…………Let the countdown begin………….

 

Love,
Teresa



Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
1 Comment

    Author

    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

    Archives

    May 2022
    April 2022
    March 2022
    December 2021
    November 2021
    September 2021
    August 2021
    July 2021
    June 2021
    May 2021
    March 2021
    February 2021
    October 2020
    September 2020
    August 2020
    July 2020
    June 2020
    May 2020
    April 2020
    March 2020
    February 2020
    January 2020
    December 2019
    November 2019
    October 2019
    September 2019
    August 2019
    July 2019
    June 2019
    May 2019
    April 2019
    March 2019
    February 2019
    January 2019
    December 2018
    November 2018
    October 2018
    September 2018
    August 2018
    July 2018
    June 2018
    May 2018
    April 2018
    March 2018
    February 2018
    January 2018
    December 2017
    November 2017
    October 2017
    September 2017
    August 2017
    July 2017
    June 2017
    May 2017
    April 2017
    March 2017
    February 2017
    January 2017
    December 2016
    November 2016
    October 2016
    September 2016
    August 2016
    July 2016
    June 2016
    May 2016
    April 2016
    March 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015
    June 2015
    May 2015
    April 2015
    March 2015
    February 2015
    January 2015
    December 2014
    November 2014
    October 2014
    September 2014
    August 2014
    July 2014
    June 2014
    May 2014
    April 2014
    March 2014
    February 2014
    January 2014
    December 2013
    November 2013
    October 2013
    September 2013
    August 2013
    July 2013
    June 2013
    May 2013
    April 2013
    March 2013
    February 2013
    January 2013
    September 2012
    August 2012

    Categories

    All

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.