Friday, December 31, 2010


It is my habit to write something thoughtful and pondering - although hopefully not ponderous - on the last day of the year, sort of summing up the theme of the past 12 months. This year, however, it could be argued that I've already done that - early this month, I wrote about finally getting to that place in my personal growth where instead of mindlessly keeping going, not only did I protect myself from harm, but I also felt good about it. Alison, wise as usual, wished me a happy new year in a comment on that post and she was absolutely right. Because the theme of this year has been finally learning that sometimes, not doing is the right thing to do. I'm not crazy enough to believe that this one won’t need learning over and over again, but the fact that I finally got there, after years of talking about it but never quite figuring out how to click from theory of it to the practice of redirecting the fierce is my big accomplishment of 2010.

And so, what do you do when you already written your New Year's post and are sitting by your computer with a shoulder that's bitching because it's been used quite a bit in the past week? You act again upon this miraculous thing that you have learned and stop.

But not quite yet.

I could not have learned this without you. You reading this blog, leaving comments with your take on things, sharing your experiences, comments that make me think, push me to consider new angles or stop me from hiding from a truth I need to process in order to move on in the journey have helped more than paying a therapist. Without you, I would not be where I am - we are each other's friends, support group and private cheerleading squad. I love the Internet and. I’m forever grateful that you're out there.

And I'm also curious, because this is not a one-sided conversation, so I'm wondering…
What is your big accomplishment of 2010?

I hope you all have a wonderful evening and that next year will treat you well, keep you healthy, make you laugh and nourish your personal growth. See you next year!

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Progress in RA: A Decade of Hope

The annual review post. Yeah, I went there:

"The new millennium started with the scare of Y2K - remember that? Everyone was convinced the sky would fall the minute the clock ticked over at New Year's, but thankfully nothing happened. For people living with RA, the new millennium didn't look much different, but the seeds of a revolution had started and now, as I sit by my computer thinking about what has changed for us in the past 10 years, I look at it entirely different landscape."

You can read the rest here.

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Random December

It seems as if Europe's getting all the snow that Canada normally again - here are some photos of London after their latest snowstorm. Of course, then there's the calamity that just hit the eastern US - found this video of a blizzard time lapse. Pretty impressive.

In other news, there's a town that can't find a jury who's willing to convict on a charge of possession of a small amount of marijuana. This one deserves a post of its own, but it's the end of the year and I'm back to work. Well, not just that - I'm also having the hardest time getting out of vacation mode, so I'm doing whatever I can do to increase my chances of vegging with a good book or a movie. To that end, I also found this video about bikes in Copenhagen. I have half a mind to send it to our esteemed new mayor and waiting to see if his head explodes. And in a completely random segue, albeit staying within YouTube, here is a perfect illustration of what happens between siblings.

Mor sent me a link to a Lufthansa exercise in geography. I may have included it in the past Random post, but it's fun, so I'll do it again. Dawn sent me a link to a Flickr gallery called Urban Decay and I wish I'd taken some of those photos. And from LynnM, a series of videos from Ivekt on handy household tips, such as folding socks, hiding a hole in your wall from your landlady and how to clean the cat. I have crush. Ivekt no suck.

Trevor's contribution this month includes a piece of computer history featuring John Cleese and that's never bad, as story of someone's bad day that trumps pretty much all bad days, a list of 20 things that became obsolete this past decade (several of which made me cry and feel very old) and some really excellent and highly sarcastic reviews of interesting products for sale on Amazon. And lastly, to commemorate the season, what to do when your holiday gets interrupted by the zombie apocalypse.

The Boy's family has been keeping me entertained, as well. Richard got in the game with a cartoon about the fate of the diary in the blogging age and another one with a bit of revisionist fairytale history. Janet sent me a terrific and very literal poster, a story about what can happen when you bathe in scented products instead of dabbing a little bit on and a link to one of the Cheezburger nation's subsites, this one about weddings. Which pretty much guarantees that I'll never get married.

And from David, an illustration on how far we've come in terms of memory storage (which also made me cry and feel very old, but did so while blowing my mind) and a story on how owners of order collies are renting sheep to keep their dogs from getting bored. And then this last Random posts of the year, a wonderful video animation of a wonderful and completely delicious piece by Stephen Fry on language, in which he smacks down linguistic pendants and calls for a deeper enjoyment of language. Just listen to the way he says the word enjoy at the very beginning. it can positively make you blush.

Monday, December 27, 2010

A Tink & Sadie Christmas

We have a new addition to the family! Sadie celebrated her first Christmas with us on Friday and was a terrific addition to the festivities. And just who is Sadie, you ask? Michele's new Jack Russel-Corgi puppy

 Adorable - as Morgan said once or twice - and has a wonderful personality. We all had a blast playing with her.

And we all had a blast in general. The anticipation was palpable

There was singing

And laughing

And playing with presents

Magic. Just magic


Friday, December 24, 2010

Glædelig Jul!


Wishes for the merriest of holidays to you and yours from Miss Lucy and myself.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Do You Lose When You Gain?

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about learning to protect myself. About finally getting it. Finally acting in accordance with my alleged intelligence and bowing out of the celebrations for International Day for People with Disabilities because if I didn't, there was a significant risk that I would lose several months of my life to healing.

Julia* left at very interesting comment on that post:

"Huh. Am I the only one with mixed emotions here? This is growth, this is maturity. Heaven knows that avoiding disabling pain is a good thing. And I'm really happy for you.  But there are these petty thoughts in the background. Is there no regret for the missed opportunity? The wisdom comes at the cost of a certain fierceness. Is there no regret for the fiercenss?  
 But maybe the fierceness isn't gone, maybe it is just re-directed. Once again, you are making me think."

I want to apologize for making you think, Julia, but consider the favour returned because I've been gnawing at your question for days now.

Is there no regret for the missed opportunity? Absolutely there is. I’d spent a lot of effort - and a fair degree of money - preparing for this, as had The Boy. I've heard that it was a terrific day, with an excellent turnout and this was a really good opportunity for me to get some exposure as a photographer. But even when hearing all of this, the twisting, painful "I wish I'd gone" that normally would've happened, didn't. And it still surprises me.

The fierce. Is what gets you through the hard times, gets you through when you never thought you could, gets you out of bed and dressed and through the day. It gets you back up on your (metaphorical) feet after you've been knocked down for the 17th time in a week and when you live with a chronic illness or disability, it is only with the help of the fierce that you create a life. It helps all of us, with or without disability, because it is the part of you that snarls in the face of a barrier and gives you the strength to go through/over/around it. Without it, there is just giving up.

And then there's caution. Caution can keep you weighing the pros and cons well past the closing of the window of opportunity, it can keep you static, sitting on the couch inside instead of taking a risk. It can keep you from failure, sure, but also from the thrill of trying and failing or even trying and succeeding.

Back to fierce. There are times where it is the only thing that gets you out of bed and dressed and through the day. When things are so hard that only the fumes of willpower, a stubborn refusal to lie down keeps you standing (again, metaphorically). Because fierce exists on a continuum and on the far end of this is something akin to the ferocity of a cornered animal - and in a way you are: cornered by circumstance, by pain, by impossibility - and it hits that place within you where the fight or flight response lives and you use that to fuel the fight. But it comes with a cost, because the fight or flight response is only supposed to be used for emergencies, temporarily and when it becomes the place where you live, your state of normal, it burns. It doesn't just burn what is standing in your way, doesn't just carry you forth on a flying carpet of flame past and through and beyond because you cannot harness fire, not this kind of fire, anyway. There is no discipline to be found, no control and although you may push through, there are consequences.

There are times where untamed ferocity is the only way you can get where you need to go, but getting lost in a habit of ferocity as a standard response will burn you and therefore prevent you from going where you want to go. Fierce and caution both are tools. Tools to be tempered, honed and used with discipline and skill and when used this way, they will enrich your life and get you further than you were before. The trick, I seem to have learned, is to know how to balance them, when to use one or the other and how much of each. And this is wisdom that has been learned by the totality of the experience, not just by the gift of feeling better, but also by repeatedly being burned by ferocity.

Because you are right, Julia - the fierce has been redirected. It has guided a shift in priorities, a look at life long-term, beyond today and this week and the visualization of what I desire for the future. And whether that is finishing The Book, having dinner with a friend, meeting deadlines or, as Diana said in a comment on the same post, creating the kind of physical health that means more time and ability for shenanigans with one's beloved. The fierce is now being used to stop myself from making the kind of foolish choices that impair my ability to live my life instead of enhancing it. And for that, there are no regrets.

*Thanks to my %^&#! commenting system I don't have Julia or Diana’s URLs - if you read this, can you leave them in the comments, please? And yes, the new year will definitely see some changes in the comments.

Monday, December 20, 2010

In the News

There's a reason I don't pay too much attention to the news beyond scanning the headlines on a couple of articles a couple of times a day - wait, that actually sort of sounds as if I do pay attention to the news, but nevermind, the reason it doesn't go much beyond that is that it tends to make me cranky. And although there is only five days left until Christmas, I'm going to share some of these types of stories, because… Well, there've been a number of them and I might as well share them with the world, right?

Our new mayor, Rob Ford, as in his first Council meeting followed through in his election promise to cancel the $80 vehicle tax which was intended to go to green initiatives, etc., And which was incredibly unpopular with the driving public (or so we have been led to believe). This was one of his major platforms and I'd like to take this opportunity to state publicly that in my opinion, if you can afford a car, you can afford an $80 a year tax. As I'm sure that the majority of you boneheads people who voted for him believe that we should be kind to this Earth whenever possible, that you may even have children or grandchildren for whom you wish the best possible future and that I'm sure you likely recycle, it seems ridiculously shortsighted and quite frankly downright Scrooge-ish to mandate your elected officials to get rid of this tax. Because it will leave the city with a 48 million shortfall - apparently not the $84 million I tweeted a couple of days ago - which our esteemed new mayor called a "drop in the bucket" and opines that efficiencies will be found to make up for it. When they close the pools next summer or reduce another City service, I would like all of you voters who made this happen to be as happy about our new mayor as you are today. And to the councillors who rolled over and played dead on this instead of standing up for an important initiative, I say pfffthhb!

Some time ago, Greg Walsh, an Ontario minor league hockey coach pulled his team off the ice when one of the members of the opposing team used a racial slur (the N-word) against one of his players. Walsh has now been suspended for the season because according to the Hockey Canada rules, you're not allowed to refuse "to start play." The player who used the slur and two of his coaches were suspended for three games. Although the article linked to in this paragraph say that the two game officials heard the racial slur, the latest news stories say that according to the Ontario Minor Hockey Association, they did not and the OMHA therefore cannot hand out any penalties to the player. Although in my opinion, suspending someone for three games seems to state right out there that you're punishing them for something, so I'm not quite sure what's happening with this. Except that certain people seem to be hiding behind the roles. In any respect, good on you Walsh. Thanks for standing up for your players and doing the right thing.

Last week, a really big thing happened that wasn't reported by mainstream news, namely that the biggest prison strike to happen in US history took place in Georgia (thanks to The Boy for keeping me informed). Inmates in 10 Georgia prisons went on a peaceful strike to protest working conditions, nutrition levels, poor conditions, substandard medical care and a host of other really alarming issues. There are two issues here. The first one is that just because you're in jail, doesn't mean that this state has the right to treat you in a way that was abolished by Abraham Lincoln. And secondly, where was the mainstream media? Had this been a violent protest, it would've been all over the news, but an entirely peaceful and unified protest by all prisoners, regardless of gain or group affiliation is not. Is it me or does it seem as if everyone are really scared? The microcosm in a prison depends on cooperation by prisoners to work, an agreement to act according to the rules of being a prisoner and when they don't, when they do something as revolutionary as unified and quietly protest without violence? That has potential ramifications, doesn't it?

But there was good news in the world of election promises, too. The U.S. Senate repealed the asinine Don't Ask, Don't Tell rules for gays serving in the US military. It never made sense to me that you are allowed to sacrifice yourself for your country, but not be open about your sexual orientation, so at least this year ends with some degree of sense was restored to civil liberties. And that made me happy to read the newspaper. Of course, as some brilliant person said in a comment somewhere - and you'll have to ask The Boy exactly where this was - when the US pulls out of Afghanistan, Fox News will no doubt be very busy talking about how the US lost the war in Afghanistan because Obama repealed the rule. Sigh.

And I will now go into a self enforced news-free diet for the remainder of my vacation.


Friday, December 17, 2010

Larger Than Life

Those of you who - breathlessly? - follow the ramblings that I call my tweets - know that I spent last weekend doing two things: working and watching Lawrence of Arabia. I found out that I tried watching it once before and that I'd only made it about 41 min. in before abandoning the effort. The first 41 minutes make you realize just how long the movie is and at the time, I didn't have the patience. This time, I stuck it through (if spacing it out over four days can be likened to any sort of sticktoitiveness) and I'm glad I did. This won't exactly be a review, more a collection of thoughts and probably only a smattering - I feel as if I could write an essay about this movie. And by the way, thanks to The Boy, I will forever exclaim (rather than merely say) Lawrence of Arabia! with rolling Rs, an exclamation mark and a veddy British intonation. (might help if I put in the link to the video, huh? Vacation brain, my apologies.... Also, link fixed. Thanks to Trevor for letting me know)

I was vaguely aware of the story, the way your vaguely aware of a number of historical events - enough that you know what happened and can participate in a very basic conversation, but very far from knowing details. Discovering the story  - or at least the movie version of the story - of what Lawrence did, what he and the Arab army did for the war in the desert during World War I was fascinating and makes me feel like a more well-rounded person. But what was most interesting about the movie was the journey into the desert and the journey into the man.

There are a number of big names in this movie or actors who became big names, such as Peter O'Toole and Omar Sharif, as well as big-at-the-time Alec Guinness and Anthony Quinn, but there's an additional, sort of anonymous yet very much possessing of a personality, character that plays as big part as O'Toole, namely the desert. I've been to the desert in Nevada and came home saying it was like the mountains, only more so. Nothing has ever made me feel smaller, more like the tiniest blip then being in the desert. It is such an overwhelming sense of inexorable time, of so much past behind you that you cannot fathom it and so much future stretching in front of you that you are less to this Earth then what an ant is to our lifetimes. People have called it pitiless and merciless, but neither fit because that assumes a sort of will, an intention and there is none. The desert just is. Is in a way that I have never felt except when I was in the Rockies, but more so. There is a silence there, a sense of history and a strange sense of hope that even when we are all gone, it will still be there, continuing.

And this turned into more of an ode to the desert then to a movie, so back on track. The movie captures this about the desert, take you into it and because of how long the movie is, it takes you into that headspace of being in the desert, of connecting to that sense of depthless time. You - well I, anyway - want to disappear into it, study it, try to learn just a little of it, while realizing that only generations of living in it will allow you to begin to live in a sort of uneasy partnership with it. Which brings us to the Bedouin, the various tribes of Arabs united through the work of Lawrence and I think, despite not knowing very much about these tribes beyond the obvious, that the movie began to capture how living in the desert shapes a culture and a people.

For a film geek, you can wax poetic about David Lean's direction, the cuts, the justifiably famous mirage scene (the first 3,5 minutes of this), the brilliant editing, the vision of making this movie that has as mentioned in the documentary in the special features, "no girl, no love story" and hardly any action. There is no way this kind of movie would be made today and it is a great pity, because this is the kind of movie that will be to our age as Shakespeare was to the 1600s.

Yes, you might say that the movie made an impression on me. What can I say, it had that feeling of being a timeless classic.

This is a movie that I will need to own and to watch regularly. Not for a while - 217 min. of movie, plus about 100 min. of special features is a time investment that felt a bit like taking an advanced class in filmmaking, but it is definitely a movie I will want to revisit. There is so much about it that this larger than life – T.E. Lawrence himself was the definition of larger than life (and I need to get my hands on his book The Seven Pillars of Wisdom), the movie - released when I was only a few months old - has become larger than life and then there's the desert. Which is most definitely larger than life.

Have you seen it? What did you think?

Thursday, December 16, 2010

10 Days Left: Last-Minute Gift Ideas for People with RA

The season, shopping and good ideas are the topic of my latest post on MyRACentral:

"There was a plan. I was going to be done with my Christmas shopping by December 1 and spend the next 24 days being completely relaxed (about the holidays, anyway - I am rarely completely relaxed). Then something happened and I'm still a bit confused."

You can read the rest here

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Just Sayin'

Dear Throng of Able-Bodied People Emerging from the Elevator like a Herd of Sardines Escaping from a Tightly Packed Barrel,

I have no problems with you using the elevators, really I don't. Especially parents of children in strollers, but the rest of you who feel compelled to use an elevator despite the close proximity of an escalator are certainly within your rights to use this miracle of modern conveyances. I'm not sure it's quite a human right (yet), but it certainly is a fantastic invention.

I even don't have a problem - well, much of a problem, anyway - with being packed into such an elevator along a bunch of you with my face in butt height, having to lean over one armrest to make sure I don't make actual physical contact with your derrière while exchanging commiserating glances with the toddler in the stroller next to me. We are all equal in this world and there's room for all of us. Most of the time, anyway and I try not to gnash my teeth too loudly when the herd of people who’ve waited in front of me squeeze themselves into the metal box leaving no room for as much as a feather between them and I bare my teeth smile and say "it's all right, I'll take the next one." After all, we do live in a society that operates on a first-come, first-served basis and as this is the way I operate myself in terms of e.g., arranging my social calendar, I can't very well quibble when on the receiving end of the consequences of this policy. I've been known to occasionally send a glance which I hope says much in the direction of aforementioned escalators or perhaps the stairs immediately next to a bank of elevators – y’know, the stairs that I can't use, but you can - but really. Beyond this mild passive aggressiveness, I suck it up.

However, thing I have some degree of trouble with, dear TABPEEHSETPB, is when I and I alone sit right in front of the doors of the one elevator in a busy downtown mall designated to transport people with disabilities to the various levels in this mall - the blue sign with the grey outline of a wheelchair means it's accessible, just in case you're new to this planet - and watch this group of you spilling out of the small elevator while politely waiting until you are all out until I try to enter and have the doors close in my face. I realize that you're all terribly busy getting to the next shop, but would it kill you to hold the elevator doors open for the cripple? I mean, I'm right there. In front of you. Waiting to use the elevator. That is my only choice for traveling between floors.

I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound like a Grinch, but despite my unwavering devotion to this particular season as my favourite time of all the holidays, my heart remains incapable of growing three sizes in the face of eight ambulatory people rushing past each other - and me - with no attempt whatsoever at keeping the door open for the person waiting. It's simply rude in general - in this kind of situation, it is generally considered good etiquette to take 2 seconds to make sure that the people waiting, be they chaired or not, can enter the doors you just used. However, maybe it's me with my silly sense of apparent entitlement, but if you can walk and I can't, it seems to me that it would behoove a person just that little bit more to extend a helping hand.

Us cripples are like that. Demanding and bitchy. I know I set a bad example and I promise I'll work on being more accepting of your foibles.



Monday, December 13, 2010



It's the first day of my 2-week vacation and I'm feeling silly. Hope you are, too. My comment box is your playground.

Friday, December 10, 2010

A Linguistic Discovery

When I lived in Denmark, I was a sort of linguistic chameleon. By which I mean that I had a habit of picking up the regional accent of whatever person I was speaking to. Saying it was a habit makes it sound as if it was on purpose. It wasn't, just happened – I’d start out a conversation speaking with the intonation of someone who's grown up in the suburbs of Copenhagen and within about 20 min. or so, I sounded like I was from Fyn/Funen or Jylland/Jutland.

My osmosis with my conversation partner disappeared when I came to Canada. I just can't do accents in English - perhaps it is because my own is still so close to the surface? That is, with the exception of an Irish accent. There's something about the cadence of the Irish way of speaking that hits the same place as Fynsk (as in coming from the island of Funen/Fyn) - they're both lilting, musical sounds. Which is funny because I can't sing in key at all.

And a sidetrack, but it's relevant. In terms of languages, I have a great fondness for the sounds of many, not just in terms of the way the individual language sounds in itself, but also of the way its accent colours English. Russian, Spanish, Portuguese, Australian (yes, I know they theoretically speak English, but try watching watch an Australian movie and see how much you can pick up). There our also languages that never really appealed to me and one of them's Italian. I don't know why, I mean no offense to the Italian people, country or culture out there, but it just never turned my crank.

A couple of weeks ago, I dropped by my mother's place and had to pick up something from another tenant in the building lives on another floor. There I ran into an older woman, who stopped me to check if I was my mother's daughter - I admitted that I was - and mention how she was a bit confused that I was on the wrong floor. We had a bit of a chat, she introduced herself as Giovanna and despite having been in Canada for decades, she still had an incredibly charming and very heavy Italian accent. And within 3 minutes, so did I. Less heavy, but there was a definite change in the way the words came out of my mouth and the change was definitely Italian. Turns out that the lilt hits the exact same place in my head as Irish and Fynsk.

Who knew? Of course, now I'm starting to think I might want to study Italian.

Monday, December 06, 2010

Personal Growth

A week ago, something happened in my shoulder. I still haven't been able to pinpoint the exact time or act that caused the calamity, but the end result was a majorly crapped out shoulder, neck and arm. Complete with buzzing in certain fingers, jolts of sharp pain in my thumb and a seized-up neck, shoulder and upper back. Yippie, back to that. I upped the meds, slowed down a little and continued preparing for my table at the artists’ area at the International Day for People with Disabilities last Friday. Had ultrasound on Thursday, things were better and then, Thursday evening it all went Very Bad Indeed.

It took me a couple of hours, but I finally faced the fact that being there on Friday would come with a significant risk of aggravating the injury to the point where I'd spend the next 2-3 months back in a place I didn't want to be. And so I canceled. Not unaware of the irony that I had to bow out of that celebration of an international day for people with disabilities because my disability acted up.

Very quickly after making the decision, I also became aware that I wasn't upset. In fact, I was at peace and suffused by the feeling of having made the right decision. As I normally have to be dragged kicking and screaming into admitting that my disability may mess with my plans, this was a feeling that was totally alien to me. And that's when the lightbulb went off.

Things have changed this year. I have learned to be more careful, I have come to understand that I can reduce my pain by reducing my activity - don't laugh, it was hard won - and in the last six weeks of receiving regular ultrasound treatments, I have experienced remarkably manageable levels of pain for the first time in about a year and a half. And I am convinced that had that not happened, I would've gone. Had I not had a break from the intense pain, I would have gone to Variety Village on Friday and suffered the consequences. Because what's the difference between intense pain and slightly more intense pain, right?

And by the way? When you've had that break and the Big Pain comes back, it packs a much harder punch.

But there I was, having tried manageable pain and minimizing the risk of going back to hell again became of paramount importance. Not going meant I had a reasonable chance of healing this in a couple of weeks, could have that two-week vacation planned to start next week instead of it turning into a sick leave, could go back to work, to Christmas, to writing The Book and to all the rest of what ability brings with it that had become so precious in my life and I deemed it more important.

It was stunning.  For what may be the first time in my life, I – me, my health, my life -was more important. And it did so partly because I now believe there’ll be another chance and that it’s possible – probable? – that I’ll be around and able to do it instead of feeling I have to do it rightnowthisveryinstant because who knows if I’ll be able to participate should the chance come around again. And so, on a quiet Thursday evening, proper perspective arrived in my life with no fanfare, no red carpet, just sort of snuck in.

Earlier this year, it occurred to me that perhaps I didn't have to live exclusively in the present, that there was a reasonable basis to believe that I could have a five-year plan. And now, after eight months of living with this knowledge, acting upon it, some sort of major paradigm shift has happened within me. Because not only do I believe that there's a future to be had, I am now also actively protecting it.

And this is the moment where those of you who've been reading this blog for several years may be sitting in front of your computers with your jaw on the floor. It's okay. I still haven't picked mine up.

You shift the prism, turn it slightly so the light catches another facet and suddenly, in a burst of rainbow colours a different image emerges, a different reality. And after a life of pushing myself relentlessly because I never knew what tomorrow would bring, I seem to have learned that there's a difference between working hard and working foolishly. Seem to have absorbed this new reality of a pretty decent chance that tomorrow has a reasonable potential to be fine. And that instead of some nameless, disembodied and capricious force being in control of how that tomorrow will be, I seem to have realized that I have a significant role to play in that outcome. Seem to be in a position where I have some - not total, because none of us do, but some - control of my future.

It boggles the mind.

Thursday, December 02, 2010

10 Things to Do for 2011 and Beyond

The annual planning for the future has started on MyRACentral:

"December of any year is traditionally the time where media of all kinds focus on what has happened in the past 12 months and if you read my Month Ahead post, you know that's coming. However, just to mess with tradition, I'm starting my posts this month by talking about the future."

You can read the rest here.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

International Day Celebrations

On Friday, I will be here (click to embiggen)

Why don't you join us? More information here.