I've just finished writing the second children's book in my "Together In Peace And Harmony" series. My mission now is to supply parents with books containing multicultural diversity for youngsters, ages 2-6. I believe that if we familiarize children at a very young age with differences, they will embrace rather than fear them. Ultimately my goal is to experience world peace before I'm called to vacate the premise, if you get my drift.
Now I must choose an illustrator. You might think it's a piece of cake to find a person to draw pictures for a children's book. Actually, working in this particular genre is more difficult that writing a novel and having a cover made. First it takes hours to find the talent and creativity needed for such a project. Then you need to study every artists's porfolios to determine if their style fits your story. This takes a long time, and if there are two or three that are close in style, trying to select the right one gives you fits! Setting a budget is a financial puzzle, making sure to be fair yet at the same time making it lucrative enough to entice the illustrators. When the artists respond to your post, you must ask the right questions so that you can determine their work ethic and personality traits. If he or she and yourself are not compatible, finishing the project can take an enormous amount of time and frustration.
Are you getting the picture yet? Over the passed three weeks, I've accomplished everything I've listed above and have actually narrowed down my search to two candidates. One is a lovely young lady from India I've worked with before on another of my series. She is extremely talented, highly creative, and a dream to work with. We have a great relationship and seem to always be on the same page, no pun intended. She has expressed a real interest in this project and I couldn't be happier. The only fly in the ointment is that she's getting married in December and I don't want to add to her stress with deadlines.
The second candidate, one I've never worked with before, is listed as a 'rising talent' on the site I use when searching for freelancers. Her portfolio is impeccable showing great creativity and talent. She has no problem with the budget, and is highly interested in the project. Her answers to my questions met my approval, and she even had a few questions of her own which I always encourage my illustrators to voice. I think it shows confidence and maturity when they want to clarify something or insert an idea. To top it all off, she lives thirty minutes from my home. I've never worked with a hometown illustrator, and I guess it would be fun to have lunch and talk business at the same time.
To complicate things, I've informed both that I'll be making a decision today! Does it look like I'm anywhere near making THAT DECISION TODAY?
What to do? Choosing an illustrator to bring one's story to live is very taxing and extremely stressful!
I'm going to mull it over and take as long as I need to finalize the deal. Usually I'm very sure of myself and can decide without all this drama, but each of my books means the world to me, and
choosing the right illustrator is key.
I'm praying for a thunderbolt to appear above my head and God to appear letting me know which one is THE ONE!
Come on, God, I'm listening, I'm not trying to be pushy but I've only got less than twenty-four hours to seal the deal!
Monday, September 19, 2016
Monday, September 12, 2016
A Light In The Mourning
It will be thirteen years this Wednesday that a very dear friend of mine committed suicide by shooting herself in the head. She did it exactly 15 days after she'd attended my daughter's wedding. After all this time I still question why. Never once in the twenty-five plus years that I'd known her would I have ever dreamed our friendship would end so horribly. Never once did she display sadness or temper, she was always cheerful, always thoughtful and caring. She had this quirky sense of humor and chattered constantly like a squirrel with an newfound acorn. She was physically beautiful, yet she didn't seem to know it, She was talented in so many ways, yet she didn't boast. She was a star, yet she never failed to put others first.
Some months after her passing, in the wee hours of the morning, I stood in the doorway of my kitchen. A warm light was streaming through the room apparently devoid of a specific source. I rubbed my eyes to make sure what I was seeing wasn't due to tired or defective vision, but my eyesight was fine. As I studied this unusual phenomenon, a feeling of familiarity washed over me. I'd been in its presence before, many, many, many times. I'd been warmed by its loving spirit, I'd been cheered by its happiness, I'd been privileged to have been its friend.
I absolutely believe my friend visited that morning to let me know that she was in a better place. I absolutely believe she came to lift my sadness and shine a light in the mourning that had enveloped me from the moment I'd heard of her death.
In life, she truly cared about others, so it stands to reason that when she was no longer with us, she'd do anything she could to take away the sadness and bring a ray of light into our hearts.
Miss you, dear friend, always and forever.
Some months after her passing, in the wee hours of the morning, I stood in the doorway of my kitchen. A warm light was streaming through the room apparently devoid of a specific source. I rubbed my eyes to make sure what I was seeing wasn't due to tired or defective vision, but my eyesight was fine. As I studied this unusual phenomenon, a feeling of familiarity washed over me. I'd been in its presence before, many, many, many times. I'd been warmed by its loving spirit, I'd been cheered by its happiness, I'd been privileged to have been its friend.
I absolutely believe my friend visited that morning to let me know that she was in a better place. I absolutely believe she came to lift my sadness and shine a light in the mourning that had enveloped me from the moment I'd heard of her death.
In life, she truly cared about others, so it stands to reason that when she was no longer with us, she'd do anything she could to take away the sadness and bring a ray of light into our hearts.
Miss you, dear friend, always and forever.
Monday, September 5, 2016
"THE NEW NEIGHBORS!"
Three years ago our neighbor of nearly forty years passed away. Naturally we were concerned as to who would buy the house and move in. It took an entire year before anyone showed a real interest, and another few months before we found out it had been sold. Our street's rumor mill was abuzz. Some said the new owners were a married couple with no kids, some thought a bachelor purchased it, and some, like my hubby and I, had no clue that it had even been taken off the market.
Fast-forward to present day: In April we attended their beautiful wedding. Since then we've shared everything from gardening tips, to garbage bags, to stories of when we were first married which was forty-eight years ago this June. Just the other day I was telling Delcie about the horrific delivery of my third child. Now instead of maybe in three years, she's pretty sure they won't even think of becoming parents for another five!
On Thursday evening as I watered my flowers, the "new neighbors" sneaked up behind me and opened a conversation with, "Are you guys coming to our Labor Day picnic on Saturday?"
"No," I replied, "we weren't invited."
"Hey, we knew you'd come anyway, whether or not you were invited, so we didn't bother to extend a formal invitation"
My usual reply was "Yep, if we saw people and smelled food, we'd be there come hell or high water!"
The Saturday picnic was a blast! The attendees included parents from both sides, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood pals, and college friends. Oh, my hubby and I and our dog, Shadow, too.
There was enough food to feed a large army, beverages for every taste, and a corn hole contest that went on and on and on. Ben's mom, Barbie and her partner, Josh, outplayed every opponent for hours on end. Delcie and I tried to unseat them, but we both sucked. We promised we'd practice all year long, even in the dead of winter, so we'd be the ones to dethrone them next time.
Although we haven't known Ben and Delcie for long, and have only been in the company of their families maybe four or five times, we've been made to feel like we're old friends who've been a part of each other's lives for forever. These 'two kids' as we call them are the best of this new generation. They are responsible, respectful, helpful, easy-going and have a quirky sense of humor. How we got to be so lucky to have been blessed with such wonderful neighbors, I really can't say, but, believe me, I'm not complaining.
As the evening went on, Ben started up the fire pit and I hurriedly retrieved the giant marshmallows and sticks I'd purchased months ago but never had the chance to use. The young as well as the more mature squealed with delight as they proceeded to burn the hell out of those white fluffy things! Most of them said they liked eating marshmallows when they were charcoaled, but I suspect they were just trying to make themselves feel better about their obvious inadequacies. My marshmallow was a beautiful golden brown with a lava-like inside that was to die for!
Next I pulled out all the stops, my mountain pie makers. Using pie crust instead of bread, and both apple and cherry filling, I baked up the best pastries in the land. As I passed around pieces of my delectable dessert, the youngins said they preferred pizza filling. What do they know anyhow! The folks with the more sophisticated palates couldn't get enough mountain pies and begged for blueberry and peach the next time around.
As the picnic began to wind down, those of us still sitting around the campfire talked and laughed about the simple things in life. Just before hubby and I decided it was time to go, Delcie came up to me and told me that she had a life goal. She asked if I wanted to know what it was. Of course I did, I'm a nosy old broad who is always ready to hear something nobody else has heard before.
"When I get to be your age," she said, "I want to be you."
For a second I couldn't respond with a comeback because I was speechless. No one had ever told me they wanted to be me. My new neighbor touched my heart with her warm sincerity. Maybe it was her choice of beverage that had something to do with her newly-found life goal, but I'll take her compliment nonetheless. I love you, too, Delcie.
As neighbors go, we've hit the jackpot! Winning the lottery, if you will! It's like we've known each other a lifetime, and perhaps in another past lifetime, we have!
Fast-forward to present day: In April we attended their beautiful wedding. Since then we've shared everything from gardening tips, to garbage bags, to stories of when we were first married which was forty-eight years ago this June. Just the other day I was telling Delcie about the horrific delivery of my third child. Now instead of maybe in three years, she's pretty sure they won't even think of becoming parents for another five!
On Thursday evening as I watered my flowers, the "new neighbors" sneaked up behind me and opened a conversation with, "Are you guys coming to our Labor Day picnic on Saturday?"
"No," I replied, "we weren't invited."
"Hey, we knew you'd come anyway, whether or not you were invited, so we didn't bother to extend a formal invitation"
My usual reply was "Yep, if we saw people and smelled food, we'd be there come hell or high water!"
The Saturday picnic was a blast! The attendees included parents from both sides, siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, childhood pals, and college friends. Oh, my hubby and I and our dog, Shadow, too.
There was enough food to feed a large army, beverages for every taste, and a corn hole contest that went on and on and on. Ben's mom, Barbie and her partner, Josh, outplayed every opponent for hours on end. Delcie and I tried to unseat them, but we both sucked. We promised we'd practice all year long, even in the dead of winter, so we'd be the ones to dethrone them next time.
Although we haven't known Ben and Delcie for long, and have only been in the company of their families maybe four or five times, we've been made to feel like we're old friends who've been a part of each other's lives for forever. These 'two kids' as we call them are the best of this new generation. They are responsible, respectful, helpful, easy-going and have a quirky sense of humor. How we got to be so lucky to have been blessed with such wonderful neighbors, I really can't say, but, believe me, I'm not complaining.
As the evening went on, Ben started up the fire pit and I hurriedly retrieved the giant marshmallows and sticks I'd purchased months ago but never had the chance to use. The young as well as the more mature squealed with delight as they proceeded to burn the hell out of those white fluffy things! Most of them said they liked eating marshmallows when they were charcoaled, but I suspect they were just trying to make themselves feel better about their obvious inadequacies. My marshmallow was a beautiful golden brown with a lava-like inside that was to die for!
Next I pulled out all the stops, my mountain pie makers. Using pie crust instead of bread, and both apple and cherry filling, I baked up the best pastries in the land. As I passed around pieces of my delectable dessert, the youngins said they preferred pizza filling. What do they know anyhow! The folks with the more sophisticated palates couldn't get enough mountain pies and begged for blueberry and peach the next time around.
As the picnic began to wind down, those of us still sitting around the campfire talked and laughed about the simple things in life. Just before hubby and I decided it was time to go, Delcie came up to me and told me that she had a life goal. She asked if I wanted to know what it was. Of course I did, I'm a nosy old broad who is always ready to hear something nobody else has heard before.
"When I get to be your age," she said, "I want to be you."
For a second I couldn't respond with a comeback because I was speechless. No one had ever told me they wanted to be me. My new neighbor touched my heart with her warm sincerity. Maybe it was her choice of beverage that had something to do with her newly-found life goal, but I'll take her compliment nonetheless. I love you, too, Delcie.
As neighbors go, we've hit the jackpot! Winning the lottery, if you will! It's like we've known each other a lifetime, and perhaps in another past lifetime, we have!
Monday, August 29, 2016
GoTopless Day Cover-Up!
Yesterday was GoTopless Day, which according to our local newspaper, is celebrated annually on the Sunday closest to Women's Equality Day, marking the day American women earned the right to vote. Supposedly it's a global event, yet I've never heard about it until I read the tiny article buried on the 6th page at the very bottom of said paper. Furthermore, the only parts of the country that actually participated in this celebration were Los Angeles, New York, New Hampshire, and Denver. No surprise there!
So why the big cover-up? And this time, yes, the pun is intended. Is it because women still have low self-esteem regarding their bodies, continue to hold on to the puritanical mores of the past, or just don't care to make waves about something so seemingly inconsequential?
Or is it because men want their women to see themselves as second-class citizens, dress modestly when in public, and focus on more important issues such as child-rearing, and homemaking?
I often wish that when I'm at the beach I could bare my breasts in order to get a uniform suntan. I envy the guys when they dive into the ocean, feeling the cool waves beating rhythmically on their chests without being criticized for being scantily dressed. When my hubby is outside cutting the grass, he's got a hat on his head, but no shirt on his back. When I'm outside tending to the flowers or picking weeds, I'm in a tee and bra which are hell to take off when every fiber is soaked in a disgusting sweat. At the end of the day, when watching a sports game, hubby is comfortably clothed only in a pair of shorts, while I'm in a nightie designed to cover all my private parts. If he happens to drip his beer on his tummy, all it takes is a swipe of the hand to remove it. If I spill my gingerale because the dog unexpectedly jumps up on my lap, I've got to do a complete change of attire.
I don't know if there are many women who agree with me, but I've never let public opinion stop me before. Here's my take: Both men and women have breasts, even though in most cases, ours are definitely larger, more supple and perky (at least before giving birth), and have a defined purpose, nursing our young. Women's breasts come in many shapes and sizes, but all are beautiful. As we age, these body parts change exponentially as do all body parts. Do we put bags over our heads because our faces are lined, and do thicker thighs and rounder butts stop us from wearing swimwear? Hell no!
Now I'm not in favor of having women run through the malls with swinging boobs exposed for all to see. I don't think that would be even safe. Nobody wants to be inadvertently hit in the eye by a fellow shopper's dangling breast when brawling over a coveted sale item. I don't think going topless is a good idea when attending a baseball game. What if a high-fly ball is hit in your direction and a group of fans dive in to get it? Unknowingly of course, somebody just might grab one of your boobs thinking he or she has just secured a ballpark trophy! Ouch!
But going topless at the beach or swimming without a top would be a freeing experience, at least that is what I believe. Even as a senior, I'd love to have the option and would not have any qualms about it.
I think it would be a step in the right direction to start here. Yet I don't have any problem over time extending going topless to one's backyard and when relaxing at the end of the day on the back porch sipping on a chilled glass of your favorite beverage.
If indeed GoTopless Day is an annual globe event, let's publicize it more, become more comfortable in our own body image, and begin practicing going topless on a more regular basis. Let's become the 'Susan B. Anthony's' of today and gain our rights as women to be equal in this area as well. Eventually women going topless in society would be seen as normal and not a big deal.
Women Unite! Free Your Breasts! Uncover the Cover-Up!
So why the big cover-up? And this time, yes, the pun is intended. Is it because women still have low self-esteem regarding their bodies, continue to hold on to the puritanical mores of the past, or just don't care to make waves about something so seemingly inconsequential?
Or is it because men want their women to see themselves as second-class citizens, dress modestly when in public, and focus on more important issues such as child-rearing, and homemaking?
I often wish that when I'm at the beach I could bare my breasts in order to get a uniform suntan. I envy the guys when they dive into the ocean, feeling the cool waves beating rhythmically on their chests without being criticized for being scantily dressed. When my hubby is outside cutting the grass, he's got a hat on his head, but no shirt on his back. When I'm outside tending to the flowers or picking weeds, I'm in a tee and bra which are hell to take off when every fiber is soaked in a disgusting sweat. At the end of the day, when watching a sports game, hubby is comfortably clothed only in a pair of shorts, while I'm in a nightie designed to cover all my private parts. If he happens to drip his beer on his tummy, all it takes is a swipe of the hand to remove it. If I spill my gingerale because the dog unexpectedly jumps up on my lap, I've got to do a complete change of attire.
I don't know if there are many women who agree with me, but I've never let public opinion stop me before. Here's my take: Both men and women have breasts, even though in most cases, ours are definitely larger, more supple and perky (at least before giving birth), and have a defined purpose, nursing our young. Women's breasts come in many shapes and sizes, but all are beautiful. As we age, these body parts change exponentially as do all body parts. Do we put bags over our heads because our faces are lined, and do thicker thighs and rounder butts stop us from wearing swimwear? Hell no!
Now I'm not in favor of having women run through the malls with swinging boobs exposed for all to see. I don't think that would be even safe. Nobody wants to be inadvertently hit in the eye by a fellow shopper's dangling breast when brawling over a coveted sale item. I don't think going topless is a good idea when attending a baseball game. What if a high-fly ball is hit in your direction and a group of fans dive in to get it? Unknowingly of course, somebody just might grab one of your boobs thinking he or she has just secured a ballpark trophy! Ouch!
But going topless at the beach or swimming without a top would be a freeing experience, at least that is what I believe. Even as a senior, I'd love to have the option and would not have any qualms about it.
I think it would be a step in the right direction to start here. Yet I don't have any problem over time extending going topless to one's backyard and when relaxing at the end of the day on the back porch sipping on a chilled glass of your favorite beverage.
If indeed GoTopless Day is an annual globe event, let's publicize it more, become more comfortable in our own body image, and begin practicing going topless on a more regular basis. Let's become the 'Susan B. Anthony's' of today and gain our rights as women to be equal in this area as well. Eventually women going topless in society would be seen as normal and not a big deal.
Women Unite! Free Your Breasts! Uncover the Cover-Up!
Monday, August 22, 2016
Monday, August 15, 2016
BRAIN FREEZE!
I've published eleven children's/tween books to date, and have been trying to go for an even dozen. The problem is that #12 is like giving birth to a 12 lb. baby, painfully frustrating! Now I can honestly say that while I've never produced an infant of that size, I can only imagine. Matter of fact, I'm not going to let my mind go there since, for me, the visuals alone would be terrifying!
The working title for this practically non-existent book is 'If I Were You And You Were Me.' The underlying concept is centered around the idea of what it would be like if suddenly an older person was young again, and a kid became old overnight. After a series of episodes in each of their daily lives as the 'other one', it would be clear to both of them that they'd be totally content to be who they are in reality.
The problem I'm having is that after outlining the scenario, I've developed a terrible case of BRAIN FREEZE! Trying to come up with daily activities that are true to life while exuding humor and compassion, AND ultimately present the case that each stage of our existence has its pros and cons has been challenging to say the least.
Okay, so going from old to young surely would have its benefits. Your energies would be through the roof, you'd have a strong, agile body that could leap tall buildings in a single bound, and you wouldn't lack for a bevy of friends who were constantly available to join you for frolic and fun. BUT, being young, your independence would be greatly curtailed by those overbearing people you call your parents, you'd be enslaved by weekly household chores, and be imprisoned daily in a classroom for six or more hours depending on your grade level. To further add to your misery, you'd have a ton of homework to complete, the actual amount again dependent on your current grade level. Perhaps the final insult for you would be that you had to adhere to a set bedtime determined by those same overbearing people you call your parents!
Now let's examine the seemingly disastrous phenomenon of going from young to old. You'd wake up slowly, slowly drag yourself to the kitchen for your morning cup of coffee, read the newspaper from cover to cover...slowly, wash up and get dressed in no particular hurry and have the rest of the day to figure out as it slowly unfolded. Maybe you'd take the dog for a walk or putter in the garden. Maybe you'd clean out a cupboard, or hem a pair of pants, or maybe not. Depressing? Perhaps until you realize that being old also has its benefits. You'd be able to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. There'd be nobody to tell you what to do and when it needed to be done. You wouldn't be enslaved or imprisoned by familial or societal demands. You could nap at two in the afternoon, and go to bed at two a.m.
Well what do you know, after lamenting over having a bad case of writer's BRAIN FREEZE, I've managed to put down two paragraphs that contain possible ideas I can implement in the new book.
That just goes to show you that the only way to melt a writer's BRAIN FREEZE is to take it out of the freezer and start writing. By jotting down random thoughts that don't seem to have any connection will eventually begin to help formulate a concept and expand it into a great story. I should know, it's happened to me at least eleven times!
The working title for this practically non-existent book is 'If I Were You And You Were Me.' The underlying concept is centered around the idea of what it would be like if suddenly an older person was young again, and a kid became old overnight. After a series of episodes in each of their daily lives as the 'other one', it would be clear to both of them that they'd be totally content to be who they are in reality.
The problem I'm having is that after outlining the scenario, I've developed a terrible case of BRAIN FREEZE! Trying to come up with daily activities that are true to life while exuding humor and compassion, AND ultimately present the case that each stage of our existence has its pros and cons has been challenging to say the least.
Okay, so going from old to young surely would have its benefits. Your energies would be through the roof, you'd have a strong, agile body that could leap tall buildings in a single bound, and you wouldn't lack for a bevy of friends who were constantly available to join you for frolic and fun. BUT, being young, your independence would be greatly curtailed by those overbearing people you call your parents, you'd be enslaved by weekly household chores, and be imprisoned daily in a classroom for six or more hours depending on your grade level. To further add to your misery, you'd have a ton of homework to complete, the actual amount again dependent on your current grade level. Perhaps the final insult for you would be that you had to adhere to a set bedtime determined by those same overbearing people you call your parents!
Now let's examine the seemingly disastrous phenomenon of going from young to old. You'd wake up slowly, slowly drag yourself to the kitchen for your morning cup of coffee, read the newspaper from cover to cover...slowly, wash up and get dressed in no particular hurry and have the rest of the day to figure out as it slowly unfolded. Maybe you'd take the dog for a walk or putter in the garden. Maybe you'd clean out a cupboard, or hem a pair of pants, or maybe not. Depressing? Perhaps until you realize that being old also has its benefits. You'd be able to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. There'd be nobody to tell you what to do and when it needed to be done. You wouldn't be enslaved or imprisoned by familial or societal demands. You could nap at two in the afternoon, and go to bed at two a.m.
Well what do you know, after lamenting over having a bad case of writer's BRAIN FREEZE, I've managed to put down two paragraphs that contain possible ideas I can implement in the new book.
That just goes to show you that the only way to melt a writer's BRAIN FREEZE is to take it out of the freezer and start writing. By jotting down random thoughts that don't seem to have any connection will eventually begin to help formulate a concept and expand it into a great story. I should know, it's happened to me at least eleven times!
Monday, August 8, 2016
WHO'S TO BLAME?
My hubby and I are Catholics and go to Mass every Sunday. Over the past 2 years or so we've noticed a significant decline is attendance. I would venture to say there were only about 75 folks in church yesterday.
On the way home I again lamented that it was only a matter of time before our home parish would close. And again we discussed what could be the reasons why people aren't filling the pews. We both offered what we believe could be contributing factors:
1. Exposure to decades of priests' pedophilia
2. Decline in societal morality
3. Lack of interest in personal spiritual growth
4. Outdated services causing boredom/disinterest
5. A feeling of disconnect/absence of fellowship
6. Ineffectual church leadership
7. Ever-present solicitations for monetary contributions
8. Family disintegration
9. Decline in the number of Catholic schools available/affordable
10.All of the above
By no means have I listed these points in any particular order, and certainly by no means have I listed all of the myriad of possibilities. But I'm certain that what we've discussed has something to do with the problem Catholic churches all over the country are now facing.
WHO'S TO BLAME? The Church and its leadership, parishioners, lack of spiritual education, society, family disconnect? Oh, yes, all that I've mentioned and much more that I've omitted, must take responsibility for this sad state of affairs. And if we fail to come up with viable solutions soon, the very existence of the Catholic Church is in jeopardy.
Maybe we can't rectify all of these problems quickly, but we must start somewhere. How about #4? I know that the components of the Mass are set, but the energy in which its celebrated definitely needs to be rejuvenated. As I look around on any given Sunday, I see many who aren't engaged in prayer or song. Parents are trying to keep their youngsters under control with iPhones, coloring books, action heroes, etc. Some of the teens are chatting incessantly, and a goodly number of elders are nodding off. Perhaps if the commentators and music leaders executed their duties with more clarity and enthusiasm, the congregation would be more inclined to participate. Maybe if the priests' sermons focused on delivering scripture as it applies to current issues, people would listen more intently. And if we could change up the format just a tad, the boredom could be alleviated significantly. How about a Polka Mass, an inclusion of a dance interpretation, a guest choir? I'm sure many of you have other suggestions that would enliven the Mass to such a degree that people couldn't help but be eager to return each and every Sunday.
And then there's #5. There are so many folks who complain about the lack of fellowship in their home parishes. They say there are certain groups of people, cliques if you will, who run everything making it impossible for them to become a part of any function. You might argue that if an individual really wants to help, they are more than welcome. Certainly that's true, but many personalities are shy and unassuming, and unless they are personally invited by a member of said group, they don't have the social skills to move themselves forward. Perhaps a 'meet-and-greet' gathering sponsored by the different organizations in the Church could be held at the beginning of September to entice folks to join them in their efforts throughout the year. Maybe if group members reached out more to their own neighbors and friends inviting them to participate in certain functions, would their organizational membership grow, and the Church benefit exponentially.
WHO'S TO BLAME? WE ALL ARE! AND IF WE DON'T TRY TO RECTIFY THIS DIRE SITUATION WITH PROACTIVE SOLUTIONS, I'M AFRAID SUNDAY MASS WILL SOON BE A THING OF THE PAST!
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