A holiday style SOS...

Anyone here watch the new program Tim Gunn's Guide to Style? For the uninitiated, Tim Gunn's show, which he co-hosts with Veronica Webb, is similar to the British and American programs What Not to Wear. I have always admired Veronica's effortless chic and sharp brain. I trust Tim's experienced eye, consummate taste and completely relate to his ruthless purging ethos. I wish Tim and Veronica would put together a holiday dressing special for the masses!
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Fashion dilemmas seem to spike around the holidays as social engagements begin to fill the calendar. The problem with holiday dressing is that it can quickly derail. Play it too safe and you risk feeling dowdy. (Think Jamie Lee Curtis' sweater vest in Christmas With the Kranks.) The only thing worse than being frumpy at the holidays is looking like a hooker. We've all seen the low-cut, sequin-embellished cocktail dresses that appear at every corporate holiday party. Mix in a little spiked eggnog and you have a fashion disaster in the making....or as my dear friend Vonda once witnessed, drunken nipple exposure! But, you do have to hand it to those women...they sure do make those company yawners more memorable with their generous holiday "cheer".
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Perhaps my concern about holiday attire is rooted in childhood scars. Until I was about 9 or 10, my dear mother used to style my hair for holiday parties. Her favorite look was to part my long, Jan Brady-style hair down the middle and then create a long braid on each side. Then she would pull each braid up and secure with an elastic band to form a braided loop on each side. The finishing touch was to adorn the elastic with ribbons and miniature Christmas ornaments. The result was a festive Heidi on Christmas crack.
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If you haven't figured out yet, I am so not a fashionista. I have photos of myself in outfits over the years that are so horrid that all I can do is humbly plead: Please forgive me, oh Lord, for inflicting that kind of trauma on the public. I know I am only human and it was the 80s after all, but I promise to avoid plaid leggings, big shoulder pads and pumps with clip-on bows at all costs in the future. Amen.
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A few years ago I broke out of my "classics" template and started playing with more trendy clothing items again. Maybe it was an early mid-life crisis. All I know is that the experiment was a failure. On the other hand, I can proudly say you won't ever see me walking around town with Bebe on my bust or Juicy on my butt.
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Short of Tim and Veronica arriving on the scene to hook me up, I have decided to learn from my personal ghosts of Christmases Past this holiday season. Gone are the days of being a slave to "what's in or out". No more uncomfortable shoes. No dresses that require spray-on tans, special bras, or an act of God to pull off. I am woefully without a great Little Black Dress in my wardrobe right now. Short of finding one (and I have no plans to go to great lengths), I'm thinking tailored black trousers and patent flats; black skirt and boots; cardigans and camisoles; fun jewelry. Classic comfort w/a little holiday glitz is my plan. An effort to be true to who I really am. Stuff I already own, a new item or two that will give me a lot of mileage...and in the end, comfort. Because you just really don't enjoy yourself when you're nipped, tucked and stuffed like the Christmas goose.
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What are your holiday fashion faves?

Tag--you're it!

I've been tagged by Rose to list 8 crazy things about myself. So in no particular order, here's my list:

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1. My father named me. My parents were living in Florida. My mother was pregnant and one day my father pointed to the name, "Amber" , which is Arabic for "light" or "golden jewel", in the baby name book and told my mother, "That's it...that's the name!" No more discussion...Amber it was. Back in the late 60's only Golden Retrievers and harlots were named Amber. Now the name is more common but some things don't change. Fast forward 20-odd years. I'm working my first post-college job in radio news. My first day on the job, the station manager says to me, "For the sake of privacy, a lot of our talent don't use their full legal names on air. You might want to consider using your first name and your middle name and omitting your last name. So what would your first and middle names be?" I replied, "Amber Lynn". (If you're clueless now, you must click on the link.) He said..."Keep your last name!" (True story.)

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2. I was able to read the newspaper at age 3. At least...according to my mother. Keep in mind, my mother also dressed me in plaid bell bottoms and assures me that I was potty-trained at 12 months. (yeah...sure, mom!) You decide whether to believe her.

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3. I'm a klutz. But you probably already know that. I love to run and to swim...and in my early 20s I even completed an 8-hour step aerobic marathon for charity. But lawwwwwd....if there's something to bump into or a pothole to trip on, I'm there. With bells on. And I have the orthopedic scars to prove it!

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4. I am an 80s British New Wave afficionado and a karaoke 'ho.Today I was at Kinkos making copies when "Love Plus One" by Haircut 100 came on the muzak system. I was boogeying and stapling at the same time..."Loooooove --Love Plus One!" Given my klutzy nature, such outbursts are probably not wise. And I've been banned from Kinko's.

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5. I've never had a cavity.

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6. My favorite color is aqua/turquoise. Has been ever since I can remember.

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7. My first car was a used metallic blue Volkswagen Beetle, when I was in college. The brakes left a little to be desired, as did the fuel gauge. A few days after my dad bought it for me, I was driving on the highway when the car ran out of gas. The fuel gauge read 1/4 full. This was in the pre-cell phone days. So I had to walk to the nearest pay phone to call for a ride. The closest business establishment was an adult bookstore!

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8. My family knows I want to be cremated when I die, my ashes entombed in an eternal reef. Besides being with my family, I am at my happiest when I am snorkeling on a tropical reef. This photo was taken in Guam in early 2005, as I hiked down the jungle cliffline to Haputo Beach.

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The day prior, we experienced aftershocks of the big Asian tsunami that registered 6.5 on the Richter scale. As a result, when I snorkeled the reef the next day, the riptide was fierce. It almost pulled my aqua socks off my feet and buffeted me up and down while I held onto the coral. But it was worth it...I saw a mesmerizing cobalt blue starfish...like something from an electric dream. Lets hope the world's reefs survive for our kids to enjoy.

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Enough of my ramblings...Now, I'll tag the following people for fun. Pat; Lisa; Lisa; and Suzette....Tag! Go forth and share as you see fit.

The Scrooge in me...

I am really not a bah-humbug kind of gal. I love celebrating the Christmas season, especially since I've become a mother. Christmas through a child's eyes is a magical gift. I also enjoy trimming my home for the holidays and sharing good times with family and friends. Christmas carols sung by candlelight never fail to bring me to tears. And of course a little somethin' nice in the stocking is icing on the yule log.

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But I'll be honest...I'm feeling a little Scroogey. With each passing year, I get more turned off by the commercialization of Christmas and at some point, a person has to draw a boundary. This is my year to take a stand.

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This is partly because Thanksgiving arrived early this year. That just means that people started celebrating Christmas earlier than ever, well before their Thanksgiving turkey even fully digested. (Some started before their jack-o'-lanterns cooled!) It's a shame that Thanksgiving has been subjugated to nothing more than a shopping pause in the run-up to Christmas. So...while I normally might put the Christmas tree up on Thanksgiving weekend, I decided to wait another week, when we will begin the Advent season in earnest.

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This year, I spread Thanksgiving out all weekend...we ate leftovers ad nauseum and left the fall harvest decor in place. I've yet to throw out the Indian corn and pumpkins that grace our entry table. I did make a brief shopping excursion on Friday, at o'dark thirty, before the biggest crowds, to replace my blown-out vacuum cleaner and my daughter's blown-out gym shoes. I saw the lines wrapping around Circuit City from the car. Even the Staples parking lot was full! I got the two items on my list and was home drinking my coffee and vacuuming my area rugs as the sun came up.☺

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Perhaps if the early Christmas shopping environment brought out the "goodwill in men", I might be more inclined to join in. But holiday shopping seems to bring out the worst in people. Just read the news on any given Black Friday. I used to think the "Black" represented a retail profit. Now I think it refers to the bruises people get pursuing their Christmas dreams.

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People sacrifice their Thanksgiving experience to sit in line for 36 hours at Best Buy and save $200 on a laptop. People get in fistfights over MP3 players. I'm sorry, but when starving people in Darfur exhibit more human dignity at the rice truck than my fellow citizens do in the pursuit of DVDs, then the meaning of the season has been completely prostituted in my book. Jesus Christ would roll over in his tomb if he was still there...especially if he saw the crappy movies they're fighting over! At least make it an Oscar winner, people! ☺
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So this Monday morning, I've declared Thanksgiving officially over at our house. I dipped my toe into Christmas and completed my major holiday shopping for the kids with a few mouse clicks. No shoving, no lines, no bad muzak on the sound system. Later this week, I'll purchase some fresh greens for our holiday decor and on the weekend, we'll deck the halls. Keeping the holidays simple and stress-free helps me keep it real.

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Look, it's a free country and people should celebrate as they choose. A few of my neighbors have their lights up and I've noticed more than one November Christmas tree twinkling in neighborhood windows. They are beautiful and I admire my neighbors' passion and their energy. But being an early bird isn't for me...at least not this year. Truthfully, as a Type A personality, I have enough natural tendencies to plough ahead and "get things done"...and I'm learning as I get older when to say "enough is enough". Instead, this year I am moved by Ecclesiastes: For everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven. This year, I'll savor each season as it comes in due time, fully present in each moment. My Advent season will begin December 2nd ...and then let the party begin!

A season of gratitude...

Giant Saguaro in a sun salutation of gratitude

Arizona Thanksgiving, 2007

It's late and the rest of the family is tucked into bed...stomachs full, following a nice, quiet Thanksgiving holiday at home, just the five of us. I am enjoying a bite of leftover turkey and a glass of wine, savoring the quiet house and the sense of accomplishment and satisfaction that comes with preparing the Thanksgiving Day meal and sharing it with loved ones.

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It seems like Thanksgiving has become just a speedbump on the road to Christmas these days, and that makes me sad. I have a soft spot in my heart for Thanksgiving. I make a conscious effort to incorporate gratitude into my daily life, and to not reserve it for special occasions. Yet there's something noble about a nation setting aside a major holiday to focus on gratitude. Regardless of religion, ethnicity, politics or gender...Americans from sea to shining sea (and thousands of Americans abroad) take pause, gather with loved ones, and celebrate gratitude for our bounty on Thanksgiving. Yes, tomorrow many people will shift their mindset to the frenzy of Black Friday. But not today...Today it's all about family, friends, food and gratitude. (Okay, and some football and the Macy's parade, too.) Thanksgiving is a rich part of our national fiber...and I'm not talking about the nutritional content of sweet potatoes! ☺

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On that note, we spent a nice, quiet day together at our casa, which was a blessing in itself. Mike especially needed the breather. Since moving to Arizona seven years ago, we have celebrated each Thanksgiving dinner on our back patio. After pumpkin muffins and coffee for breakfast, we took Zoë for a long walk in the desert, enjoying the blue sky and balmy weather. Came home and indulged in a leisurely soak in the spa, before tackling a traditional Thanksgiving dinner. The children are old enough now to help Mike and me quite a bit. They thrive on the rituals of holidays and revel in being part of the team effort. For her part, Zoë worked the floor--literally! She was our cleanup crew whenever we dropped a piece of food.

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As I wrap up another Thanksgiving, I am grateful for all our friends and family around the globe, many of whom are among the dozens of readers who visit this blog each day. You enrich our lives immeasurably. Thank you for sharing the journey with us!

From our home to yours: Happy Thanksgiving!

Good gravy...it's Thanksgiving again

I don't watch a ton of television, but one of the programs I do enjoy is Gordon Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares on BBC America. I love watching Gordon barrel into a dysfunctional restaurant and turn the place around with just an apron and a bunch of four-letter words.
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As I'm preparing my Thanksgiving shopping list, I couldn't help recall one episode I found particularly amusing, in which Gordon helped the owners craft a comeback with a marketing push called the Campaign for Real Gravy. What is it about gravy that mobilizes people to action?
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My mother hates gravy. She usually made gravy on Thanksgiving when we were growing up, just to satisfy the masses. But about 10 years ago, with her kids grown, she drew a line in the sand: She would make no more gravy. Only she never told us she was going to choose the year Grandma joined us for dinner to take the stand. It's become known as the Granny Gravy Incident of 1998.
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That year, we made the trek from our home to spend the holiday with my parents. My grandmother, then in her late 70s and newly widowed, flew in from Kentucky. Given the fact that I'd spent my entire life moving around the world, it was extremely unusual to share a Thanksgiving table with my grandmother. My grandmother is a brilliant, wonderful woman in many ways, but let's just say that she calls 'em as she sees 'em, especially where my mother is concerned.
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Everything was lovely...the dining room table was set with my mother's fine china and crystal, and we were about to dig into an elaborate meal that my mother had labored over for two days. We were passing the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes. Everyone was oohing and ahhing....until Grandma asked someone to pass the gravy.
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This is where I'd insert a sound effect of a record scratching to a halt if I knew how.
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My mother said, "I didn't make gravy. I hate gravy." You could hear a pin drop. We all looked toward Granny. In her Kentucky drawl she said, "No gravy? Laaaawwwd, I can't believe there's a Thanksgiving turkey with no gravy!" Which pissed my mother off. Things get blurry for me then. I do remember my dad started acting extra jovial, trying to defuse the tension. Mike and I looked at each other across the table and tried not to laugh as my mother stewed at the end of the table about the lack of thanks she was getting for her martyred efforts. Meanwhile, Granny continued to cluck about the lack of gravy and its impact on a traditional Thanksgiving meal whilst putting said meal into her piehole.
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To this day, when Mike whips up our Thanksgiving gravy each year, we have a good laugh over the Granny Gravy Incident of 1998. Every Thanksgiving dinner includes at least one quip about how much better the meal would be if there was just more gravy. Or our grace may include a special thanks for the blessing of gravy at the table, and prayers for those poor souls who go without gravy on Thanksgiving Day. You get the point.
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So imagine my personal amusement when I found the Campaign for Real Gravy website...and e-mailed the link to my mother with a lively Thanksgiving zinger. Think I can get a T-shirt to her in time for the big day?
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Good ol' granny is 88 now and still harrassing my mother about this and that. My daughter, a mere babe at the time, was the 4th generation at the table that day. She sides with Granny and thinks Thanksgiving gravy deserves a vehement defense. As much as she loves gravy, I know I'll never have to worry about her stiffing the gravyboat when I'm old. This Thanksgiving I'll lift my glass to the long line of strong-willed women in my family. After all, family memories are what matter most. The rest, as they say, is gravy!

Of kids and dogs...

I am back home with my favorite people and enjoying a quiet Sunday.
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We had a delightful dinner guest last evening. Hemma is one of Mike's employees, an engineer from the Singapore office who is in town for training. She is orginally from Chennai, India.
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Given how much Mike and I like Indian food, we briefly toyed with the idea of telling Hemma that it is American custom for the guest to cook curry for her hosts! ☺ But we set our selfish food cravings aside and instead prepared a dinner of grilled chicken and fajita-style trimmings, red beans and rice, soft flour tortillas and mango/raspberry sorbet for dessert.
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Hemma enjoyed getting a child "fix" from our hellions while she is away from her young son. We enjoyed hearing about her life in Singapore and India and her impressions of her first visit to the States.
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But it was Zoë, our golden goddess-in-residence, that seemed to enchant Hemma the most. Knowing that large dogs are uncommon in Singapore, Mike warned her in advance that we have a "friendly" Retriever. We needn't have worried...by the end of the evening, Hemma was oohing and ahhing over Zoë's many attributes and asked if she could take a special photo with her. Zoë seems to have that effect on everyone she meets. Her gentle, loving nature is magnetic. Lord knows she's had all four of us wrapped around her dew claw since she was a pup!
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Mike noted over our morning coffee that children and animals transcend all boundaries...they are the world's best ambassadors and in many ways, our greatest teachers. As we head into Thanksgiving week, I am especially thankful for the blessing of their sweet, gentle and exuberant spirits.

Living in the arena...

TR and his Rough Riders, 1898

It is not the critic who counts, nor the man who points how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly...who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows the triumph of high achievement; and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

-Theodore Roosevelt, 1910

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Today I was reminded of one of my very favorite quotes, "The Man in the Arena" by Teddy Roosevelt. Ironically, it was here in San Antonio where Teddy Roosevelt recruited his Rough Riders more than a century ago.

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I was a panel member of a competitive military board this morning, where we were selecting two Airmen to represent our command (which consists of 12,000 troops) in a variety of public events. The young Airmen who met the board were incredibly impressive. Each had a different story, but there was one constant: In the most trying of times, they have boldly and willingly stepped out of their personal comfort zones to serve in the middle of the arena.

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So many times I hear people make frustrated comments about "young people these days" and there are numerous articles about how pampered and self-centered the Gen Y and Millenials are. No doubt some--maybe many--are. But whenever I encounter these comments, I just say, "You obviously don't know the young people I know." Make no doubt: Hard work, dedication, selflessness and professionalism are alive and well with this generation. You just have to look in the right places.

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Later, I attended a ceremony announcing our command's newest chief master sergeant selectees. By law, only 1% of the enlisted corps can hold the rank of chief master sergeant, which is the highest enlisted rank in the Air Force. Given this statistic, you can imagine the caliber of these selectees. I am proud to say that my father, a career Airman, is a retired chief master sergeant himself. Chiefs don't just lead the enlisted corps...they mentor and mold officers and they are held in the highest respect by Airman Basic and General alike. They take risks, lead by example and epitomize that "triumph of high achievement" that TR described.

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I drove back to my quarters this evening marveling that I actually get paid to do this! I fly home on Friday...humbled, as always, by the opportunity to serve alongside these men and women ...and full of optimism about the future.

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There are many ways to live in the arena. I'd love to hear about the people you encounter in your daily lives who inspire you by stepping off the sidelines and living life fully, selflessy and with purpose.

Release...

Butterflies are Free

San Antonio, Texas

November 12, 2007

I was at the San Antonio Botanical Gardens today, photographing butterflies, when my father called. My cousin, Donna, who has battled a brain tumor for 3 years, passed away this morning.

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Donna beat the odds in 2004 when she came back to life following being declared brain dead by some of Cincinnati's top neurologists and taken off life support. My father and I were there in the hospital and witnessed the miracle ourselves. I still have a hard time understanding what I saw that night, but suffice it to say, it was a life-altering experience for all concerned. The three years since did buy Donna's children the chance to say goodbye to their mother. But it was not a storybook ending. Donna has understandably suffered from deep depression; a stroke left her a prisoner in her own body in a nursing home.
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My father is having an exceptionally difficult time with this. I wish I could be with him. He and his older sister (Donna's mother) came from a very disfunctional childhood. When his sister married and started a family, my father was still a teenager. He would spend hours at his sister's home, holding his baby nieces on his lap and playing with them. When his sister divorced, there were times my father stepped in with tough love for his nieces. He is devoted to them as he is his own daughters. He never dreamed we would lose Donna when she was only in her 40s.

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My heart goes out to my aunt and Donna's grown children, John and Jessica. John has seved two infantry tours in Iraq in between visiting his dying mother. Jessica battles her own neurological challenges. They carry more than two young people in their early 20s should have to carry.

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I am very sad today. But I am hoping and praying that Donna has found the release she wanted. Donna, I will always remember you as a completely carefree 17-year-old sunbathing in a bikini in my West Texas backyard in 1976...beautiful and full of life. Soar with the butterflies, Donna...we will miss you.

In remembrance on Veteran's Day...

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In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

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--Lt. Col. John McCrae, 1915

Find a happy space...

Hotel Buddha

November 2007

I travel several times a year for my work...Depending on the situation, I may spend anywhere from a few days to several weeks at a time in a hotel room.

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Currently, I'm on Air Force Reserve duty in Texas. Fortunately, when I come here I am provided with nice Visiting Officer's Quarters on the base. I'm located minutes from work; my suite includes a small kitchenette so I can prepare my own fresh meals; and I have access to the several fitness centers located on the base. Believe me....I'm not complaining. Some of my friends are in war zones right now. But a hotel still isn't home, no matter where I travel; why I travel; or how nice the space.

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After traveling like this for years, I've learned some tricks to making my hotel experience feel more like home:

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First, since I frequently travel to Texas, I keep a stash here. I have a box pre-positioned in the office, full of my stand-bys: a stainless steel coffee mug, family photos, laundry supplies, some basic toiletries, etc.

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Second, I keep a few zippered travel bags ready to go at home. One contains uniform items and a small sewing kit, another contains toiletries. (A side perk: my girlfriend Ang supplied me w/ wonderful travel-sized Gilchrist & Soames spa products!) When it's time to pack, I just throw them into my suitcase. No packing from scratch each time.

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I usually have to massage my consulting biz from the hotel room at night to ensure projects keep flowing. I bring my laptop with my files. I have a small zippered mini jewelry-making kit so I can whip up a pair of earrings for a spur-of-the-moment gift on the road. I also keep a corkscrew in my luggage! It is nice to have a glass of red wine while I relax in my hotel room on Friday night after a busy week of running down issues. (Tonight is a Malbec!)

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Lastly, I bring travel candles and a buddha figure. While getting groceries I pick up some fresh flowers and put together a meditation tray. I bring a family photo for the nightstand. In the evening after a hard day at work, I light the candles and it feels like I'm creating a space for myself. (Not to mention that it cuts that musty hotel smell!) Even calling home each night to my husband and kids is more special with their photos and the flowers and candles nearby.

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This trip, I'm staying in a business suite in the base's International Student Quarters. I am surrounded by exchange officers from around the world. The other night I pulled up and saw a flash of color from the second floor balcony. A man was swathed in a saffron robe with hot pink turban...seated in the lotus position in the doorway to his room. A foreign officer finding his own way to de-stress and keep in touch with himself after a long day on the job. I am not alone in my rituals!

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One or two nights in a hotel can be a nice break from the demands of home for a busy person. But it can quickly grow old. I'd love to hear your tips on how you "find a happy space" when you travel!

Ode to the Road...or, the Lactic Acid Lament

Eminem in my ear, sweat on my brow
Faithful shoes, purple and gray.


Arthritic knee and bad ankle be damned:
I've hit the ground running today.


Heat in my lungs, power in my breath
Mind and body collide


Frustrations flushed, spirit renewed
Heart is open wide.

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(I got the Ben Gay Blues, baby)

Grace & Gratitude

My friends and family know that I am a big Olivia Newton-John fan. She embodies so many attributes that I admire. Her album "Grace and Gratitude" has become a cornerstone for introspection and my meditative practices.

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Today I am reflecting on both grace and gratitude.

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I received some very sad news from my father about a loved one this morning. She's been fighting for her life for a few years and it does not appear she has much longer. I am praying that Grace will continue to be with her, whatever the outcome.

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In more mundane matters, it's been a challenging week...and I've been hard on my dear husband. More hard on him than he deserves. I sometimes wonder why he has put up with me for 20 years, but I am very Grateful that he does, and continues to do so lovingly and patiently. Today I decided to exercise some Thank You Power. I called his mother on the spur of the moment and thanked her for raising the good man that I am privileged to spend my life with.

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On Sunday, I head out of town for a couple of weeks. Until I can check in again, I leave you with "Grace & Gratitude", lyrics and music by Olivia Newton-John and Amy Sky:

All I have and all I feel

Is all because of you.

All I reap is all I sow

And love is the living proof.

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Seasons come and seasons go

No matter what we choose.

A thousand names

A thousand roads

All lead to one simple truth.

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Thank you for life
Thank you for everything
I stand here, in grace and gratitude
And I thank you.

Halloween Hangover...

Do you think my kids would notice if I ate a few more pieces of their Halloween chocolate?
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I must be the worst mom EVER. I waited until the day before Halloween to buy our pumpkin this year, and wouldn't you know it? There was nary a big gourd to be found!
Uncredited photo

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Truth be told, I still have five stitches in my finger from last week's package opening debacle...So I'm thinkin' this was the Big Guy's way of keeping me away from sharp objects!

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Actually, my last-minute pumpkin search was calculated strategy. I figured if I waited until the day before Halloween to buy the candy and pumpkin, then it would thwart my tendency to sneak the candy before Halloween, thus minimizing the Halloween-to-New Year onslaught of caloric temptation. And that part of the strategy did work...I really didn't eat any candy this year....Until today....While the kids were at school. And...[hanging my head in shame]...I'd just returned from the dentist!

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But yes, I do feel guilty that we didn't carve a jack o'lantern this year. No big toothy grin or half-gouged eye. No pumpkin seeds to roast....No rotting gourd carcass baking in our trash can under the desert sun until garbage pick-up next Tuesday. Ahh...the smells of the season!
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Hope you're recovering from your own Halloween shenanigans!