Last Day of April

When my son was quite young, he used to complain that when we were on school vacation, someone (we never did find out who) put the world on fast forward.

I really wish I could find whoever's got her finger on the controls because I feel that my whole life is like that at times, that everything is stressful, everything moves too fast, and I get to the end of a month without appreciating the fact that it's even begun.

In other words, I wish I was more like my dog Goldie who accepts the rhythm of life as it is presented to her, enjoying the scents of the air, the pace of a walk, the pat on the head, the hug.

So I'm off to take a walk. In fact, I think I'll go around our path in the woods twice because I need it. Way too much time in front of a computer lately.

You need a walk too. Go. Before someone puts the day on fast forward.

As the White Rabbit Said

Sorry to be so late and short but I am doing a final spell check on Your Book, Your Way and I AM DONE!!!!!!

Just the cover to go, ladies and gentlemen.

Please stand by.

April Showers

Yesterday was way too warm too fast but today, we're in April shower mode, complete with a southern breeze.

When I woke up this morning, I discovered a flower explosion in one of the gardens I have in the middle of the yard. Nearly every one of the daffodils and narcissus opened overnight.

The river is quite high, and our three-acre island is about an acre right now. And these tiny, beloved blue flowers are shooting up all over my yard.

Seems as though we're not going to have to wait until May for those flowers after all.

Who Turned the Heat Up?

OK, here's my first annual complaint about the new season. It was amazingly hot today! Up in the eighties!

After months of freezing weather, this rise in temperature so sudden just bowls you over. And the spring ephemerals don't like it at all.

These are coltsfoot growing at the edge of the river on land that was thoroughly scoured when the ice went out. I'm hoping the temps cool down again so that the daffodils and narcissus don't droop as soon as they are open!

Seriously, we all want warmer weather but there's still frost in our veins!

Justice Hall

I've been a fan of Laurie King's extension of the Sherlock Holmes series ever since I read the first one, The Beekeeper's Apprentice.

She's a rich, smooth writer who's developed a cast of characters that's worth the time investment to read her thick books. I bought this novel, Justice Hall, last year at the Five Colleges Book Sale and saved it for a time when I needed a worthy enabler for my reading addiction.

As with any writer whose work I enjoy, I was open to reading anything by Laurie King so I chose a book in another series, one with a contemporary setting, only to find that the "coziness" I adore in her Sherlock Holmes work was not repeated in her other series.

In other words, too violent for me.

I realize that as I mature, I've become far less willing—in fact, not willing at all—to read works that are violent. Personally, I think violence is a writerly copout. It's easy to insert into a plot. In contemporary American fiction, especially, I believe it gets used as a substitute for character.

Over the years, I've tried reading thrillers by some of the popular authors just to see if I was missing anything. And inevitably, I was bored by page 50 and put them aside.

I know that many readers "pooh, pooh" over the choice of "cozy" mysteries, aka books without overt violence. But give me a well-written cozy mystery any day—like Laurie King's Justice Hall—one with characters that stand up on the page, and I am your devoted reader.

Blue It

I love blue flowers.

I love all flowers, actually. But I am partial to blue.

These iris reticulata are among the first botanical babies to shoot up out of the ground and open to the sun, right behind the snowdrops.

Just had to share.

25 Days to Go: A Lesson Learned

It's hard for me to get my head around the fact that I have less than a month to go with this blog. My goal was to write here once a day for a year. It started as a way to adjust my attitude toward the prospect of turning 60.

It's become something else entirely.

At this point, I haven't decided whether to keep going with this blog or transfer it to the one I do on my business website: www.SonjaHakala.com.

Some days I'm sure I will continue. Other days, I like the idea of consolidating my writing. My jury is still out.

But the lessons learned...oh, I am savoring those.

I can't put them in order of importance because I believe that's really an arbitrary listing. What's important can and does change, often on a daily basis.

So I'll just begin here, with this quilt.

When I signed the contract for my book Teach Yourself Visually Quilting with Wiley Publishing, I had never finished a quilt in my life. I had finished or worked on several books, however, and in publishing, the ability to write and direct a book is the key element.

Nevertheless, my first instinct was to assume a fetal crouch for a few days after signing the contract while I asked myself over and over, what have I done? What have I done?

But I come from a long line of bootstrap puller-uppers so I marched off to conquer my fear. This quilt top was the first one I made for Teach Yourself Visually.

I remember agonizing over the choice of fabrics, sure that each selection was worse than the last. But as I once heard Taj Mahal say, sooner or later you just gotta commit.

So I cut and sewed. And was amazed to see a pretty good quilt top emerge.

As it happened, this quilt appeared in the chapter on borders. There are pictures of one of its corners with the green border attached and then with the outer, orange border attached. I didn't have to finish the quilt for those photos so it sat in my UnFinished Object box for quite a while.

Until I started the Parkinson's Quilt Project this year.

My autumn quilt became the second quilt donated to the project and it is now part and parcel of the life of a man who sits in a rocking chair with my quilt warming his shoulders.

The lesson here: When I listen with my heart, really good things happen.

A Great Sigh of Contentment

Every once in a while, it's a good idea to celebrate cold, rainy days. This morning, I was out of the house by 7:30 and jaunting over the Connecticut River to participate in one of my favorite annual rituals, volunteering at the Five Colleges Book Sale.

We moved to the Upper Valley in the late summer of 1986 and the following spring, I saw something in the local paper (which I was working for by that time) about this incredible sale. We're talking heroin for book lovers.

At that time, it was held at the combined high and middle schools in Hanover, New Hampshire, and like so many other bookaholics, I stood in a long line outside the doors, waiting for them to fling open for the tribe to slake its book lust.

I was amazed. Thousands and thousands of books for great prices, all those words to be mine.

I feasted.

Somewhere around year ten, I ventured to ask one of the volunteers if I, as a non-alum of the 5 sister colleges to whom the money is given for scholarships, could also volunteer. You betcha.

The next year, I joined the sorting brigade, separating books that would sell from those festooned with mildew, mold, dust and the scribblings of a former student.

Oh yes, I learned to throw books away, an act that felt more than slightly sacrilegious at first. But I adjusted.

This year, because of my commitment to the Parkinson's Quilt Project, I did not get to sort. But I did take my usual turn as an express cashier for the first two hours of the sale.

And for 45 minutes before the lusty hordes were admitted, I got to feast almost entirely by myself. And I am celebrating this cold, rainy (OK, snowy) day by sitting near our woodstove in the living room, my feet up, reading.

Aaaaahhhhhh......mmmmmmm.

Early Spring Tonic

The botanical life around here is stirring. Believe it or not, the snowdrops are already gone by, going to seed. The word ephemeral really suits them.

The lilac buds are cracking open and three daffodils are open right in front of the house.

Now I ask you, is there any yellow more perfect than daffodil yellow?

And how appropriate for this season, Passover and Easter, times of renewal.

And spring cleaning. I've put that chore off until I got past the Parkinson's symposium talk but now I can't wait to dust this place. This was my first winter in my new space, heated by a woodstove and the dust, well let's just say it's got to go.

Now I feel I can finally say this: Happy Spring!

The Art of Redoing

Gifting Green is the first how-to book I published on my own. It was, in the parlance of today, a learning experience.

The pattern I developed works. The instructions are clear and I really like the cover photo. But there are some problems with this book.

First of all, the fabric in this cover bag is Christmas, which limits the market for the book.

It's really only one pattern, which feels limiting to me.

And then there's the title. Gifting Green sounds like an ecological choice for giving presents when it's really about making these very cool drawstring bags that you can use for everything!

Seriously, I've given these bags to family and friends and use them myself and once you get started, you find all sorts of uses for them.

All of this is to say that Gifting Green is going to be out of print very soon. BUT yesterday, I started working on the layout for a replacement. What do you think about the title Bag Land?

Anyway, that's what I like about printing books digitally. I don't have a bunch sitting around in a warehouse that I have to take care of. I just simply inform my printer that I'm not publishing this one any more and move on. Nothing added to the waste stream.

And I really did learn a lot.

Just the Index to Go

I just spent the day working my way through the last changes to my upcoming opus on publishing, Your Book, Your Way.

Tomorrow I start work on the index and then it's finishing the full cover (probably with a new subtitle) and hopefully, finally, it will get off to the printer by Monday.

Whew.

What Is It about Piles of Paper?

Every time I hear anyone talk about the paperless office, I just shake my head. We are awash in paper, drowning in paper. And sometimes, it just takes over our lives.

Whenever I am in crunch time on a deadline, such as getting quilts ready for my talk last Saturday, I have no choice but to let things pile up with the promise that I will tackle the buildup at the first opportunity.

Actually, though, I dislike piles of stuff so the first thing I do when released from a deadline is organize.

I spent a good deal of time doing this yesterday and by noon today, the piles of paper were gone.

With the promise that my office space and quilt studio get a thorough cleaning this weekend.

After I come home from the Five Colleges Book Sale...with more paper.

Sigh.

Quilts for Parkinson's Project

Disappearing 9 Patch quilt pieced
and quilted by Lynn Wheatley using
a multitude of fabrics.

At any one time, there are approximately 100 members of the Northern Lights Quilt Guild. I've been a member since 2007 and at first, it was a little intimidating.

I only started quilting in 2005 and many of the creative women in my guild have worked in this incredible craft for far longer than I. It took me quite a while before I'd get up during show and tell to display my own work.

I hear from other members of the guild that they felt the same way. But it's really the most amazing support group you would ever want to know.

About ten days ago, I received an email from a member that I didn't know—yet. Lynn Wheatley said she had two quilts to donate. Did I want them for my talk last Saturday?

You bet.

I met Lynn at our guild's quilt show yesterday when she came up, introduced herself, and we both enjoyed a big hug. She told me how she is learning to free form quilt and just bought herself a longarm machine. For those of you visualizing a giant with a needle and thread, a longarm is a sewing machine with which you can quilt large quilts. Some longarms and longarm practitioners use computer generated design to quilt. Others, such as Lynn, eschew the computer in favor of their own creativity.

The bright, colorful quilt above is one of the two Disappearing Nine Patch quilts that Lynn donated. You can see the second below. These two pieces are her first longarm efforts and they are wonderful! I finally took pictures of three of the quilts I've made to show you too.

As an aside for the non-quilters among you, Lynn's two quilts were pieced using the same pattern, and look at how different the results are when you change fabrics. This is what fascinates quilters about what we do.

My guild's quilt show was magnificent with everyone who could pitching in to get everything done, and done well.

I'm tellin' ya, men would be far smarter if they just left us in charge.

Disappearing 9 Patch quilt pieced and quilted
by Lynn Wheatley using only three fabrics.

Autumn colors quilt, one of the very
first tops I ever made. It's been in my
UnFinished Objects box for quite a while.

Scrappy Diamonds quilt that I made from
blocks left over from a Friendship Star quilt
I made for my sister.

This is a mild-mannered Four Patch quilt for those who
wish for a little calm in their quilts.

Wherever You Go, There You Are

This has been just the most incredible weekend. I talked to folks about my quilt project yesterday, got my first email about it this morning.

Worked at my quilt guild's show today on the book tables. These events are such a lot of work by all involved and I think the best part is when it's quieter on the second day of the show and you get the chance to chat with folks you don't get enough of a chance to talk to.

These incredible women are being so supportive of the Parkinson's project and are supportive just in general.

Anyway, I have quilts to photograph tomorrow to get up here so you can enjoy them too.

And one month from tomorrow, I will turn 61 and this blog will be a year old. I have been mulling whether to continue it or fold it into my personal website.

Mull, mull, mull.

I think it's nearly time for bed.

Life Back to Normal (Even if I am Not)

My first talk about the Parkinson's Quilt project is finally over. By all accounts, I did fine.

Jay helped me out so much. Could never do this without him. Wouldn't want to try.

I have new quilt donations that I'll take pictures of and post tomorrow but right now, I am exhausted.

We learned a lot and what we did for set up will be refined as we go along.

But that's the way it's supposed to be, isn't it?

Tomorrow!!

I am speaking at the Parkinson's symposium tomorrow!!

I feel like I am nearly ready.

Wish me luck. I'll tell you how it went when I blog again tomorrow night.

This Just In from the eBook Front

I have become quite interested in electronic books as a result of my own book. So I've been following every story that comes my way as a matter of course. The following was in an ARTICLE in Publishers Weekly today.

Here's what an e-reader is: a battery-operated slab, about a pound, one-half inch thick, perhaps with an aluminum border, rubberized back, plastic, metal, silicon, a bit of gold, plus rare metals such as columbite-tantalite (Google it) ripped from the earth, often in war-torn Africa. To make one e-reader requires 33 pounds of minerals, plus 79 gallons of water to refine the minerals and produce the battery and printed writing. The production of other e-reading devices such as cellphones, iPads, and whatever new gizmo will pop up in the years ahead is similar. "The adverse health impacts [on the general public] from making one e-reader are estimated to be 70 times greater than those for making a single book," says the Times.

Then you figure that the 100 million e-readers will be outmoded in short order, to be replaced by 100 million new and improved devices in the years ahead that will likewise be replaced by new models ad infinitum, and you realize an environmental disaster is at hand. We will have lost a chunk of our planet as we lose our minds to the digital juggernaut.

Here's what it takes to make a book, which, if it is any good, will be shared by many readers and preserved and appreciated in personal, public, and university libraries that survive the gigantic digital book burning: recycled paper, a dash of minerals, and two gallons of water. Batteries not necessary. If trees are harvested, they can be replanted.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel

OK, now I'm getting nervous.

On Saturday afternoon at 1:15 at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center, yours truly will stand up to talk to nearly 200 people about the Parkinson's Quilt Project. My mouth turns dry (really, I'm not kidding about this) at the mere thought.

Reminds me a little of being pregnant when you have to rush to the bathroom every five minutes or so. I'll be that way on Saturday morning.

In any case, I have just a little hand sewing to do on a binding and all my quilts will be ready. You can see a bit of the ones I have finished here.

Today, I'm putting together the show-and-tell stand that Jay created for me. I can hang quilts from it and flip them over (at least that's the idea) as I speak.

I'm also going to spend the day making notes on what I want to cover. I need to talk for about 30 to 45 minutes and (thank goodness for the women in my quilt guild) will have more quilts than mine to show folks.

My sister is driving up, bringing a companion whose identity will be revealed later. She's so sweet. Originally, she was going to surprise me and show up but when I kept pushing gently to see if she was going to come or not, she had to tell me.

But her companion will be a surprise.

I know that once I get started, I'll be fine.

You can find out more about the Parkinson's Quilt Project on my personal website at: www.SonjaHakala.com

Uh oh, now my palms are getting sweaty.

Going, Going, Almost Gone

That little dark arch you see
in the background is the
top of our mailbox on March 8.

There's this movie called Smoke starring Harvey Keitel that has this great running bit in it. The main character, played by Keitel, steps out of his tobacco shop in NYC every morning at the same time and snaps a photo of whatever and whoever is going by.

I've always liked that idea but seem to lack the discipline to do it every morning.

But I did manage to snap a few pictures as March marched toward April.

All four of these photographs were taken by me standing on the front step of our house looking toward the road and the mailbox at the end of our driveway.

The first one was taken on March 8. The second a week later on March 15. The third on the 19th and the last one this morning, April 12.

Can you imagine how much water was in that pile of snow alone? Then imagine that multiplied by a bazillion and you'll understand why the White River is in flood mode. It has been quite the spring so far, ladies and gentlemen.

A week later, on March 15, you can see more
of the mailbox.

By March 19, you can see the mailbox's
erstwhile companion, the newspaper
box, still standing after all our snow.

And this morning, April 12, the snow is nearly all gone.

On the Eve of (De)Construction

Ordinarily, the scene on this part of our land is either idyllic and snow covered or idyllic and green-covered. Yesterday, for the first time in months, Jay and Goldie and I got down to the land that's upstream from us.

This is where we normally walk every day year round. Once in a while, the narrow part of the path that's right at the base of the hill where our house sits gets blocked by thick slabs of ice during ice out, and Goldie and I have to find somewhere else to walk in the early spring.

But we have never seen an ice out like this one in all the 17 years we've lived here.

This is just one of the ice slabs we encountered yesterday. Actually, it's four separate slabs that piled up on top of one another when the river rose in a fury back at the end of February. The gritty stuff you see in the right foreground is a mud-covered slab of ice as well.

In addition to the icy deposits, the river laid a two-inch thick layer of dirt and mud over all the land, covering all the plant life. There are mounds of driftwood. Just downstream from the house, the water ripped back several inches of the land, exposing the foundation of what was once a roller skating rink and dance hall called Island Park back in the very early 1960s.

The ice slabs piled up on the narrow part of our path are easily five feet thick. And this particular piece of geography receives very little sun so the melting is slow. Jay thinks we have have stuff there until June at the rate we're going.

But…and this is very important…the wild leeks are coming up in the woods. They are always the first green we see, and I nearly cried to see their curled tops poking up.

Talking 'Bout my (Income) Generation

Hey folks, taking the day off from blogging (except for this sentence) to work on my taxes.

Yeesh.

I'd rather be writing to you.

I Feel Like Talking about Plants

With spring definitely on the way to Vermont, I thought it would be a good time to get back to my plant inventory. After all, I have just a little over a month before I reach the year mark on this blog.

Hard to believe, isn't it?

This is the flowering stalk of coral bells. This airy plant
hovers over the top of a garden.

This is crane's bill. This was an addition to my gardens last year.

I love lemon cucumbers and have grown them for many years.
But this year, I don't think we'll be doing many veggies because our yard has become so shady.

I love this type of narcissus with it's white petals and pale yellow trumpets.

The daisies run wild around here. Always welcome.

The dames rockets (also called dames violets) were exceptional last year.
Their fragrance nearly made you swoon.

The day lily qualifies as one of the hardiest plants around here.
And once they're in a garden, it's nearly impossible to get them out.
But why would you want to?

Fowl Report

We think—we ardently hope—that the back of winter is finally broken and that spring has taken control of our weather.

Finally.

In any event, we are enjoying a banner year in water fowl, here on the White River.

My husband Jay, who took this picture, spotted a male wood duck tucked up against the shore close to the house. When he grabbed his camera, this beautiful bird obligingly swam out a little into the calm waters in that part of the river so that we could see him more clearly.

Isn't he gorgeous!

Non-Naked Writers

See that pile of paper with the Post-Its arranged along its right edge? That's my upcoming book, Your Book, Your Way, back from the proofreader.

Well, actually, editor is more like it because this manuscript got the worthy attentions of Ruth and her magic green pencil.

Ruth is a longtime friend and my favorite editor. We have a great relationship in many ways, not the least of which is a shared passion for good words on a page. I trust her to be forthright in her opinions of my work and she trusts me to be open to those opinions.

I also know that her ministrations are an insurance policy of sorts, that obscure references or unclear sentences will be pointed out and that when I put Your Book, Your Way into the public sphere, I won't be embarrassed by an overlooked comma or misspelled word or something that makes no sense at all.

I learned to appreciate the importance of editors many years ago when I worked at our local newspaper, the Valley News. In a newspaper, you are always on a deadline and one day, I finished a feature story at the very last minute, hit the button to send it to the editor on duty that day, and was appalled to see the story appear in print with an undeleted sentence fragment right in the middle of it.

Nope, that editor never read what I wrote. And I was embarrassed because I like my stuff to appear in print in a finished state. Given the deadline (I sat right next to this editor while I wrote so he knew I finished that piece at the last minute), I needed to depend on him to read what was destined to appear in ink on paper because I didn't have the time for a final read-through.

The most important task any editor ever accomplishes is not letting a writer go out in public naked.

Lookee Lookee Lookee!

We had some serious melting here yesterday with a full eight hours of steady rain. In fact, a friend who lives just up the hill (with an emphasis on UP) stopped here last night so we could carpool to an event and was amazed at all the bare ground in my yard.

But that's the springtime benefit to facing the southwest.

I was just outside to stroll around the yard, watching the plant life wake up when I spotted these crocuses up and stretching toward the sun.

Aaaah, that did my heart good.

April Is National Parkinson's Disease Awareness Month

Both of my parents died of complications from Parkinson's disease. My husband has pointed out that there's no such thing as a non-nasty disease so calling this one names doesn't make it any different than diabetes or cancer or any of the other afflictions of humankind.

But this one is particularly nasty to me because the two folks responsible for my appearance on this planet were afflicted with it.

My parents, particularly my Mom, are the reason why I started the Parkinson's Quilt Project. (Dad died before I really began quilting so I never got to make one for him the way I did for Mom.)

And that project is the reason why I am the afternoon speaker at the Parkinson's symposium at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center on April 16. There's a copy of the poster for the event above. And that quilt you see on it was made by me. It features the eight hearts I appliquéd when I sat with my Mom during her last days.

The research into Parkinson's has not conclusively pinpointed the causes of the disease though the evidence, so far, points to exposure to environmental toxins as a huge contributor. The two speakers in the morning are part of that effort and I'll be interested to hear what they have to say.

In the meantime, I think I'd better go write my speech.

And a Good Pink Mornin' to All

Some mornings, you get up, open the curtains and receive a present from Lady Nature right off.

That was this morning. For a shimmering five minutes or so, the rising sun (yep, we are up that early) made the clouds on the eastern horizon pink.

And the river thought that was such a good idea, it reflected it back to the sky. This gorgeous hue, in its turn, spreads about to give the overall coloration in our house this pinkish hue. For just the briefest amount of time.

You had to be there.

Good Morning!!

The Boots They Are A-Changing

It's usually not a good idea to tempt the weather deities around here because doing so always ends up requiring human sacrifice—as in sore backs, cold hands, and aching shoulders.

We dodged a snow bullet on Friday. The weather mouthpieces kept raising the ante, moving upwards from three to six inches to ten to sixteen inches.

We ended up with a slushy one inch that disappeared by morning. Whew!

Which gave me enough confidence to wear sneakers when we went grocery shopping this morning!! After months of knee-high boots with Yak Trax strapped onto their bottoms, sneakers feels a lot like freedom.

When we got home, I pushed it even further, putting those leather knee-high boots into the closet and taking out the rubber boots that will encase my feet until the ground dries up which, judging by the piles of ice still decorating our walking path, will be somewhere around my birthday in May.

So the boot change has happened. Now, do not blame me if it snows again. Really, I just couldn't do the leather thing any longer.

Catching Up with my Reading

When it comes to literary non-fiction, I seek out authors such as Thomas Cahill who not only do their research but seek ways to synthesize what they find and create a narrative that's as good as any novel's story line.

Such is the case with The Gifts of the Jews.

This is the third Cahill book I've read, the first being the compelling How the Irish Saved Civilization.

This book is good. Cahill is a smooth writer, one with an understanding that the story is more important than the clever sentence. This book gave the inside of my head a good scratching as he took an in-depth look at the development of the Jewish faith and its unique perspective on life as it unfolds in the Old Testament.

While I'm not certain I agree with all of his conclusions (he dismisses all of the work by Marija Gimbutas out of hand in a single sentence, for example), I appreciate the way he took a taken-for-granted aspect of our lives and saw it anew.

Good stuff.

Incredible, Just Incredible

Mercury went retrograde on Wednesday and promises to stay that way until the third week of April. Now the scuttlebutt about this three-times-a-year astrological happening is that it's never a good time to make hard-and-fast decisions because they usually need to be changed later.

However, as in all life, there are exceptions. I've decided I'm in love with this quilt by my fellow guild member, Joanne Shapp. And I have no intention of changing my mind.

Joanne lives up the hill from me, just a few miles away. She called yesterday morning to tell me she had a quilt she wanted to donate to the Quilts for Parkinson's project. (You can find out loads more about that at my website, www.SonjaHakala.com.) Could she drop it off?

She did and we had a great time visiting with one another. And she brought this incredible quilt that will be part of my speech at the Parkinson's Symposium. (Which is now totally sold out, by the way!)

There are tons of great reasons to join a quilt guild—friends, laughter, a way to learn new techniques, carpooling for the big quilt shows. But I would be willing to bet that everyone's favorite part of every guild meeting is Show and Tell. That's when anyone who wants to can and does get up with a new project to share or seeks advice about some puzzle to be solved (how do you wash an antique quilt?) or fulfills a desire for design advice (of which there is never a shortage).

It's sort of like the Fourth of July with an audience that literally "oohs" and "aaahs" as quilts are unrolled. (We're talking about an audience that will swoon over a particular use of the color red, for example.)

I think the women in the Northern Lights Quilt Guild have to be among the most creative on the planet. I often sit in awe during show and tell thinking "How did she do that?"

All of which means my favorite quilters are in my guild. And Joanne is one of my favorites. Every time I talk to her, I learn something about quilting—a way to look at color, a way to solve a problem. It's not just that she creates these wonderful objects of beauty but that she thinks about the process, studying it in depth so that she really knows how it works.

My personal goal is to become as good a quilter as Joanne was ten years ago.

Thanks Joanne.

And a very happy birthday to my son Jesse! Still glad you're my kid—and that's no joke!!!!!