Monday, November 29, 2010

Thanksgiving Weekend Recap

Phew, it's been a whirlwind holiday weekend. What day is it? Monday? Jeez, even today flew.

Thursday was Desmond's first Thanksgiving! Full of family, food, and football. Just as it should be.

As is tradition, we first attended dinner with Tony's family:

Even Jaclyn was there! Virtually, at least, as you can see by the laptop on the side table. We Skyped with her for a little while. It was good to hear her voice, kinda like she was there in the room with everybody.

Des tried a little of everything for his first Thanksgiving feast. Turkey, squash, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce (his fave), carrots, stuffing. He loved it all.

After dinner we headed 45 minutes south for drinks and desserts in Braintree. Des was a little cranky by the time we got there. And my family can be somewhat... overwhelming. It's all the kids. The zillions of kids. And loud people. And scary men in suits who grab babies out of their momma's arms.

I promise, Uncle Dickie is harmless.

Such a fun time. Overall, Des did very well. He even stayed up past his bedtime and wasn't a total basket case about it. We got home around 8:30, and it felt like midnight. Exhausting day.

Friday was a whole lotta nothing. Just what we all needed.

Saturday was another crazy day. Desmond's daycare provider has a Christmas photo taken with all the kids every year. So we got him gussied up and took him over to her house. Lots of kids, parents, and one photographer/baby wrangler.

Saturday night we attended a friend's birthday party, which meant another trip down to the South Shore. The theme was grunge, and we took it very seriously:

It was the first party with friends where kids were encouraged to attend, so there were a bunch of little ones running around. It was crazy to see these people who we used to hang out with at punk rock shows chasing after babies now. Crazy and awesome. I wish those kinda hangouts would happen more often.

Then Sunday was another lazy day. Des napped for a total of four hours that day, which is waaaaay more than usual. A few times I made Tony go check on him to make sure he was still breathing. But all was well. The kid just had enough of our shenanigans and needed a day of rest.

Now we're in full holiday swing around here. I am beside myself with excitement for Christmas!

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


It's pretty obvious what I'm most thankful for this year, right?

My adorable, hilarious, curious, growing, healthy baby son.

But there are many other things too. I'm thankful that Des slept until 6am this morning. Sleep. I'm very, very thankful for sleep.

This guy. The raddest person on earth. And I get to share a bed with him. Visual!

I'm thankful that Jaclyn comes home in less than a month for Christmas. And that she is realizing her dream of living where it's warm and there's a beach outside her window, and I'm thankful that she is coming home for good next year.

I'm thankful that Janet married Nick and that they live less than a mile away from us. And they will never ever leave me!

My mom and my sisters. They are so much a part of who I am, they are like my limbs. See this leg? It's Maureen. The other one is Deanna. Janet is like both of my arms. My mom is my head, because it seems that in everything I do (especially lately) I think, 'What would my mom do?'

Our amazing families.

Things, jobs, homes, money, vacations. They're nice. But they come and go. It all means nothing without the people you love.

Sorry to go all sappy on you like that. It's the holiday spirit. Talk to me mid-January and I'll be back to cynical and sarcastic.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Christmas Photo Outtakes

This weekend we attempted to take a photo of Des for our holiday cards. It was a team effort. One of us would take the picture, and the other would hop around like a lunatic trying to make the him smile. We learned some things. For one, Desmond enjoys early 90's dance fads, such as The Running Man. Skankin'-it-up is a close 2nd. Hip hip! We also learned that the attention span of a 10-month-old is about as long as my pinky finger.

We took two thousand eleventy guhzillion and one photos. There might be one or two that will work. Maybe.

Most of them look like this:

Dudes, this dog is WACK.

He's behind me, isn't he.

How's the hair, is it okay?

So over it you guys.

I'm seriously considering another photo shoot this weekend. Tony better get his dancing shoes on.

p.s. Check out the blog of our friend Chris, of Chris and Jeannie, parents to adorable little Logan. It's called Dad Gut. Adventures of fatherhood, health, fitness, and family. It's already a daily read around these parts!

Friday, November 19, 2010

Wish List

Both Christmas and Desmond's birthday are coming up and we're already getting a lot of "What should we get the baby?" requests from family and friends. Instead of responding, "Umm, ya know, like toys 'n things?" I figured I should come up with some concrete ideas. So I created a wish list on for him.

The problem is that instead of adding things each day, I keep taking things OFF the list.

I hate having too much stuff around. Also, Des doesn't need too much stuff. Living simply is one of the concepts I hope to instill in him. It will help him to become more imaginative with what we have. As it is, he's perfectly content to play with an empty box. Or a few tupperware lids. Or a broom.

Seriously, he played with the broom for like 45 minutes that day.

So his wish list has been pared down to books, puzzles, a few movies, and a couple of outdoor play items. Oh, and this of course:

Start 'em early!

But honestly, I think if we wrapped the toys he already owns and loves in spankin' new cardboard boxes, he'd be psyched.

Neely might enjoy it also.

Wednesday, November 17, 2010


I've become slightly obsessed with time lately. The passing/wasting/general usage of it. It's quickness and sometimes it's painful slowness. Most of all I've struggled with the balance of time, specifically when it comes to work and family.

On a typical day, I spend 9-10 hours at work (including commute) and less than 3 hours with my son. Does that figure punch you right in the face, or is it just me?

Let's do some delving.

Des wakes up at 6am and I leave for work at 7:45am. In that hour and 45 minutes, Des has to be changed, dressed, fed, get all his stuff ready for daycare, and there's usually a few minutes left over for some play time. Both Tony and I have to get dressed and ready also. This is not a huge factor, as I usually just throw some clothes on, toss my hair up in a ponytail, and finish my make-up when I'm stuck in traffic. Fashion Police and Massachusetts State Troopers, avert your eyes.

I get home from work at around 5:45pm. Des goes to sleep between 6:30-7pm. That's an hour and 15 minutes I get to spend with him after work.

You still with me, people?

That comes out to a total of 3 hours a day I get to spend with my baby, best case scenario. It's usually less. Some days I have to be in work early, some days I stay late.

Take yesterday, for example.

Lastnight I attended dinner with work folks. I was not super pscyhed about it, but the big bosses were going, and I had cancelled a couple times in the past so I felt obligated. Plus it's a free meal at a nice restaurant. I got the lobster mac 'n cheese, and it was heaven. That beats a tuna sandwich on semi-stale bread any day.

The problem with this scenario is that I wouldn't be home until well after Desmond's bed time. So I would see him in the morning before I left for work, and then not again until the next morning when he woke up.

OMG is he even going to remember me??

I cried on the drive to dinner, god help me. I called Tony who was feeding Des at the time. He put me on speaker so I could yell ridiculous things in baby talk (OOJA BOOJA) and Des stared at the phone. Tony tickled him so I could hear him laugh. And I just about lost it.

I know, I know. It was ONE DAY. And some people have it much worse. Some have jobs that require extensive travel (I can't imagine), or work at places who aren't flexible with time off for family (thankfully my company is).

But if my situation is one of the better cases, how are people OKAY with this?? Shouldn't this all be the other way around? Are society's priorities effed up, or are mine?

I know I just have to learn to deal with it. Such is life, right? If you want to live in this part of the country, own a home, and have a family, two incomes are almost always necessary.

Oh and friends? It's amazing I see them EVER. I love them dearly, but social gatherings have plummetted down the list of priorities at this point, under work, baby, husband, family, and sleep. I have tried to make it a point to get out at least once a month to have cocktails with adults and discuss grown-up things like the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. Ohh that Camille is a piece of a work, huh?

I'm still learning how to balance it all. Sometimes I feel like as soon as I have something down, the universe adds a little bit more sand to the other side of the scale, throwing everything off. Part of life is learning how to adapt to constant changes. Basically, I need to do more yoga.

And looka that, Desmond grew another inch? Off to Target for new pants! That's kinda like yoga.

Sunday, November 14, 2010


I've always had a love/hate relationship with fall. Usually by mid-September I'm kinda over the 90-degree days and humidity and ready for some crisp cool air. Days of hoodies and scarves and good hair. But as every New Englander knows, the arrival of autumn means that Old Man Winter is waiting just around the corner, rubbing his hands together and licking his chops. That man is not my friend. He is a cold, fickle, unforgiving fellow.

On a side note, there's a commercial running now for a local news channel. "We've crunched all the numbers, we've tracked all the patterns, and now we'll tell YOU how bad this winter will be." To that I say, HA! Was this the same station (as well as every other local station) that told us last year we were getting the Blizzard of the Century and we did not get a single inch? As in ZERO inches. Not even a dusting. That was with a day's notice. So they're going to tell me NOW how bad THIS WHOLE WINTER will be? HA! I said it again.

But anyway. It's not winter yet. It is fall. I'm living in the now, man. Now is a great place to be. Full of family, food, and football.

And leaves... oh so many leaves.

Thanks to my husband and father-in-law, these leaves are gone from the yard. They lived a good life. But it was time.

We told him they went up to leaf heaven. There were only a few tears. Kid's gotta learn.

Friday, November 12, 2010

Of Food and Love

Much like my hesitation to post about Desmond's amazing sleep habits, I fear talking about his eating. As soon as I do, he'll start slapping food off his table and request only white bread. NO CRUST. But honestly, right now, Des is a champion at the dinner table. A champion, I say!

When we started him on solids, we kept a list of all the foods he ate. We stopped adding to the list a while ago because it was getting out of control. Instead I started a list of foods he wouldn't eat or didn't like. Here's what it looks like:


Yup. Nada. Every time we try a new food I'm on the edge of my seat, wondering if THIS IS THE ONE he'll refuse. Haven't found it yet.

We're not giving him anything overly complicated or sophisticated. Just the basics... fruits, vegetables, meats, breads, and cheeses. But so far every new food we try he's fine with. He picks it up with one hand, pokes at it with the other, slowly moves it to his mouth, makes his New Food Face, and chews. After that first bite, it's business as usual.

The kid loves broccoli, for crying out loud.


And peas. And hummus. And avocado. My mom is cringing right now. When I tell her we gave him brussel sprouts, her head might explode.

And it's not just the variety of foods that he eats, it's the sheer quantity. He is going to eat us out of house and home. We can only put a few bite-sized pieces of food on his tray at a time, or he will just keep shoveling everything into his mouth until the tray is clear. When there's nothing left on his tray, he whines.

Umm helloooo! Why is there no food in front of me right now?!

Because we're trying to avoid having to perform the Heimlich, darling.

Here's a typical lunch for Des:

Toasted wheat bread with cheese, steamed broccoli, 1/2 a banana

And yes, he ate almost the entire thing, except some of the crust which was too toasted for his liking.

With regular meals like these, how shall I say... he's testing the limits of his diapers. And the contents of said daipers are testing the limits of my gag reflex.

But I'm not complaining. My boy is active, growing, healthy, and HUNGRY.

These neck rolls didn't just appear overnight. It takes work, man.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

Bird on a Wire

Suburban living is pretty predictable. Sunday paper, trash and recycling on Thursdays. Out the kitchen window you might see a car passing, your neighbor with a leaf blower, kids waiting for the school bus, a woman jogging.

And then one day you look out that same window to see this:

Am I the only idiot who didn't realize turkeys could fly? Probably.

We see wild turkeys often in our area. But never so... high up. They're usually content to stay close to the ground. And this was quite a large clan. Herd. Gaggle. Google? Whatever a group of many jive turkeys is called.

Tony was home to see this. I was at work and he sent me one of these pictures with the text:

"Dinner will be ready when you get home. Thanksgiving dun' come early!"

Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Coming Through, Part 3

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 3 of the series that recounts that time. Read the previous entries here:
Part 1
Part 2

We shall walk and talk in gardens all misty wet with rain
And I will never never never grow so old again

It’s been difficult writing this part of the series, covering the hospital stay and weeks to follow. Like I’ve said before, I remember very little. And the pieces I do remember don’t follow any logical time sequence. Through my few memories and Tony’s written account, I’ve tried to make some sense of it.

Despite my hazy memory, I very clearly recall the ambulance ride from our local hospital to Beth Israel in Boston. I wanted Tony to ride with me, but he needed to drive so that he would have a vehicle in the city. I asked the doctors if I could go with him in the car, but I still needed to be monitored closely. So it was just me and the nice 12-year-old boy pretending to be an EMT in the back of the ambulance. He was sweet. Not much of a talker, which was fine with me. I felt old, pregnant, and quite content to just lie there quietly with my hands folded over my tummy.

This ride was much different than the one from earlier that night. It was calm, smooth, and unhurried, although we made it into town quickly. It was a Saturday morning and the highway was empty. The sun was just rising on a clear day. I couldn’t see much outside the windows, being horizontal like I was. But I could see the way the sun sparkled off the tops of buildings of the Boston skyline. Orange, gold, silver, iridescent and shimmery. It was beautiful and so peaceful.

That drive was like being in the eye of the storm. Coming out of hours of total chaos and heading into much of the same. A brief respite at dawn. I breathed it in like fresh air. I wished it were a little longer so I could enjoy the quiet.

I was taken to the emergency room at BI, back into the storm. Nobody was sure where I was going to land. Obstetrics? Neurology? The big debate of the day. Tony was already there waiting for me as I was rolled into a ‘room’ in the ER, which consisted of a corner with a curtain around it. These busy big city hospitals are short on space, I guess. Doctors came in and out, asking loads of questions. I deferred to my husband much of the time, something I would become very used to doing.

I was happy to see my mom arrive. She carried her purse and a plastic shopping bag full of the essentials, tissues and mints and magazines. Always prepared, my mum. My sisters arrived soon after. I was glad to have familiar faces around. But they all looked tired and worried and I just wanted people to stop. Guys, it’s okay. I’m fiiiine. I truly felt that there was no reason to worry. It was a fluke. A crazy weird fluke. I ate something bad, is all. This business, all this fuss is just silly!

Of course, I didn't see myself on the floor the night before. The convulsing and the blood. Fighting with the EMTs as they tried to help. Perhaps 'silly' isn't the word my husband would use to describe the situation.

None of the doctors or nurses could tell us exactly what had happened or why. But they had a plan. They would perform every test they could think of. And so it started. Blood tests, motor, memory, and reflex tests, lumbar puncture (yeah, it was about as pleasant as it sounds), MRIs, EKGs, EEGs… The works. The only thing they weren’t able to do was a cat scan, which is not baby safe. I’m cooking this baby just fine on my own, thankyouverymuch.

When I was in one of the more time consuming tests, Tony was able to step out with his mom, dad, and sister for a bite to eat. I imagine he needed (and deserved) a break. I learned recently that this was the time his wall broke down. Always the picture of strength and support for me, he could finally let go of all his worries and fears. Spill it out on a cafeteria table with his family there to hold him up. They listened and hugged him as he let it all out.

“It’s going to be okay,” they assured. He didn’t know if it was true. But he felt better.

At some point in between one test or another, I was finally moved into a room in the neurology unit. Since the baby was fine (can I get a hallelujah?), they would focus on this noggin of mine, :knock knock:. I was relieved to be in a real room. I hated the feeling of being in limbo. Either put me somewhere or send me home, ya know?

I was settled in the room after a long, crazy day. The rest of the family had left and Tony stayed by my side. I was exhausted. My whole body was sore from the fall, and my mind needed the escape of some cheesy sitcom. We lay curled up together in my hospital bed watching TV. Tony is always warm and he made it feel like we were home in that stiff, starch white bed. It didn’t take long for me to drift off in his arms.

He told me later on that he was scared to go to sleep that night. Any movement I made in my sleep would cause him to tense up with anxiety, reliving the night before.

At midnight Tony was awoken by another one of my movements. But this time I was not just shifting my weight in my sleep. I was convulsing. He thought he was having a nightmare at first. When he realized what was happening, he hit the call button and yelled that I was having a seizure. A nurse came in and the two of them turned me onto my side. All they could do was wait it out. It lasted about a minute, just like the last time.

I remember nothing of that incident or the rest of the night to come. I’ve been told I was in a fog for a while, came out of it for a few minutes, and then went back to sleep.

Tony barely slept. He sat in the chair next to my bed and watched my every breath, dozing off here and there.

That morning at around 6am, the nightmare continued. Another seizure. Tony jumped to his feet and ran to the door to find help, almost knocking down my neurologist, Dr. K, who was on her way in. The two of them again moved me to my side and waited for it to be over. Dr. K saw most of my third seizure, as well as the emotional reaction of my husband to all the stress. Tony is a very reasonable, together person. But this was too much. He had watched his pregnant wife have three violent, unexplained seizures in a 26-hour period and nobody could tell him why or how to fix it. Dr. K helped calm him down and assured him that they were going to take care of me. She told him how strong he was being for me and for our baby.

I go back and forth all the time on whether I believe in God or a higher power. But I believe something sent Dr. K to my room at the exact right moment. She was there to witness my seizure first-hand, enabling her to better treat my condition. And she was able to be there for my husband in a way that only an outsider, someone emotionally removed from the situation can be. I dunno… Maybe it was just a coincidence that she was walking into my room at that precise moment. But either way… It seems like someone up there is looking out for us.

I remember waking up that morning to a gray day outside the window, Tony sitting in the chair next to my bed. I stretched and reached for his hand.

“Morning babe,” I said.

“Hey. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Tired. Sore.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“… Oh god… no.”

I was afraid to hear him say the words. I knew by looking at his face, but I didn’t want to hear it. Again? Seriously? No, no, no. I was angry. Pissed off at my body, at my brain, at the world. What the hell is going on?

When I found out that there were two more seizures that night, my anger turned to legitimate concern. All along I had been worried about the baby and my husband and putting everyone out with all this nonsense. But it finally hit me. Something might really be wrong.

I know, I know… One random massive seizure wasn’t enough to make me concerned for myself. It took three. Everyone has their limit, I guess.

Now both Tony and I were praying and pleading for someone to just make the damn seizures stop. We could only hope that Dr. K had the answers.

Continued in Part 4...

Monday, November 8, 2010

Eating My Words

I knew that when I became a parent I'd have to eat my words from time to time.

Like how I said I'd never leave the house with a dirty kid. Well sometimes I'll wash Des's face after a meal and he looks just fine and clean inside the house, but then in the sunlight I notice a definite orange hue to his mouth and there's a crust of sweet potatoes around his nose. But he's already bundled up and strapped into the car seat and... oh eff it. Nobody's gonna notice. And if they do, frankly I just don't care.

Then I lick my thumb and rub his face. Yes, I really do that. It's a mommy cliche for a reason.

Oh and that time I said I'd never let my house look like it's a daycare center. And then this happened:


For what it's worth I never actually said these things out loud. But I thought them. So here I go, happily eating my thoughts. Tastes like chicken.

At least my baby's got a cell mate.

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Goodbye Loki

A picture of happier times

Our cat Loki passed away. It happened quickly, seeing as the original Loki post was written less than a month ago and we had no idea he was sick. But he was sick. And it wasn't that post that jinxed him, like Tony says. Stop making me feel guilty!

Maybe because we'd see him every day and didn't quite notice, it took a comment from my sister Janet to make us see.

"Whoa, Loki looks thin."

We looked at our kitty and then at eachother. Oh my god, he does look thin. Something's wrong. I'm not saying Loki was fat... okay, he was fat.. But this cat also had a presence about him. King Loki. Loki, the god of mischeif. He would puff his chest out and look down on the rest of us. His brother Neely would play with toys and Loki would turn his nose up like, "Really? Psh. When's dinner."

Our big, beefy Lokester was losing weight rapidly.

Tony's mom came over to look at him. She's the resident Cat Lady around these parts. Her initial thoughts were not good. She's been around a lot, A LOT of cats. So you have to take her word. Loki's an older cat and sometimes they just know when something's wrong. Loki knew, and he stopped eating. Finally he was too weak to go on and Tony took him in. He's at peace now.

There's something missing from the house. We all feel it. I feel the worst for Neely, Loki's brotha-from-anotha-motha. Now Neely's all by himself. So we've tried to pay some extra attention to him lately.

He's enjoying the attention. But I know he misses his brother.

RIP Loki. Be nice to Barkley up there.

Pic circa 2002

Thursday, November 4, 2010

First Injury

And it is very minor, thankfully!

See the blue stripe on Des's left cheek? Super bad ass, right? That's from a mean old toy block that jumped outta nowhere. From in his hand. As he was crawling down a step and did a face plant into it.

He cried for a minute and went back to playing with said toy and zipping all over the place.

This morning he crawled under the kitchen table, accidentally bumped his head on the cross-bar, and then bumped it a few more times intentionally. Like he was testing the strength of the wood. Or of his skull, either/or.

So I'm sure there will be many more of these incidents to come.

Fingers crossed they remain as minor as this one!

Monday, November 1, 2010

Coming Through, Part 2

In July 2009 while in my first trimester of pregnancy, I started having unexplained seizures. This is part 2 of the series that recounts that time. Read the previous entries here:
Part 1

And I will raise my hand up into the nighttime sky
And count the stars there shining in your eyes
Just to dig it all and not to wonder, that’s fine
And I’ll be satisfied not to read in between the lines

July 2009:

The lawn. That’s the first thing I saw in front of me. It was dark out and I was floating above the grass, unrecognizable faces above me on either side. They asked if I knew what had happened.


Had they asked if I knew my name, I would have answered the same. I was someone else. I was nobody. I was just born, or maybe I died. Nothing was sure. Yet oddly enough, everything was fine. I was warm, calm, and fine. Confused, yes, but without any strength or desire to put the pieces together.

Sometimes I still think about that feeling, of not knowing who I was. It was absolutely surreal. No past, present, or future. No name, no ties. Floating in a dream.

Then I saw a familiar face. He was frantic, yet the sight of him was reassuring. He knows me. This guy over here! He’ll tell you who I am!

His eyes met mine and he said to me without words, “There you are.” Gently, I was pulled back down to earth and I started to feel the weight of my limbs again. My best friend, my husband, my heart, Tony… yes, that’s whose face that is… he called my name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but the tone was wrong. Worried. Each time I heard my name aloud, I was pulled down into the world a little more.

Sarah, you’re going to be okay.

Sarah, we’re taking you to the hospital.

Sarah, you had a fall.

I am Sarah. And apparently I fell. Musta been a bad one.

Our neighbors stood outside their homes. They looked worried too, their hands over their mouths. Before I could smile and wave (would that be silly?), the gurney under me was lifted up into the back of the ambulance. Tony was standing outside the open doors at my feet.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. They’re going to take care of you and make sure you and the baby are okay.”


I didn’t ask what he meant. I nodded, rested my head back, and closed my eyes. At some point during the ambulance ride I remembered that I was pregnant. 3 months, I think. Ohh. The baby. I looked down at my nightgown and placed a hand over my belly. A tiny little pooch about the size of my palm protruded slightly. My ears got hot. Then my face. ‘Oh my god, the baby. How bad was the fall. What if…’

Tony’s experience of that night is obviously very different. He wrote about it in detail. But it is too terrifying to post. I will summarize.

Late in the night, he awoke to the sound of coughing or choking and thought it was the dog. Barkley often hacked in his old age, god bless him. I was moving around. Tony assumed I was trying to get the dog off the bed to prevent him from vomiting on the sheets. But then I fell. Tony jumped up and turned on the light to see me twitching violently on the floor, my eyes rolling back. Crazy, alien-esque, WTF-is-going-on twitching, for what seemed like forever but was only about 30-60 seconds, and then it stopped. And there was blood. A scary amount of blood by my head.

Tony called 911, understandably panicked. As he waited for the ambulance to arrive, he lay on the floor and held me in his arms. My eyes were closed, I breathed deeply, gurgling sometimes like a snore. He talked to me, begged me to hold on, keep breathing, just keep breathing. He thought I was dying.

I can’t even imagine. My heart breaks for my husband for having to see all that. If it had been the reverse, I don’t know if I could’ve kept it together like he had.

The only part of the ER visit I recall is the ultrasound. And the overwhelming relief when they found a heartbeat, steady and strong. Like his father. Tony and I cried and held each other. The baby is fine. The baby is fine.

After many questions, discussions, and exams, the doctors concluded that I likely had a seizure. The blood was from hitting my head on the nightstand, resulting in a lovely cut to my face. Mirrors are scarce in hospitals (gratefully), but I could tell by the reactions of others that I wasn't exactly looking my best.

Now what?

I had to be admitted, but our local hospital did not have the capacity to perform all the tests that needed to be done. They decided to transfer me to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center in Boston. There I was in for a battery of tests, a team of doctors, and many more questions. As well as a couple of very scary set backs...

Continued in Part 3...

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