Good-bye. Hello.
Summer is winding down. This family has been busy taking in the last of its carefree days while preparing for new life adventures. A week ago, we were driving back from Hilton Head — tan and sand encrusted. We quickly flipped some laundry and repacked the car to get Brandon to EKU mid-week. It didn’t take long for him to settle into his dorm room and reconnect with his buds. Such a different experience compared to a year ago but still, a few bittersweet seconds in there as we say good-bye to one phase and hello to another.
James and Tess also had many things to do — back-to-school haircuts, school supply shopping with Dave, orientation, etc. Their backpacks are ready to go and despite the fun of summer, they are looking forward to the academic routine. We have one going into high school and one going into fourth grade. It doesn’t seem right but then again, the years have been rushing past us.
Perhaps the biggest transition this summer was the ability to say good-bye to the shadows of cancer.
June was a tough month. It started with Dave getting a great report of continued remission but it blended into the last phase of pain management and full-blown withdrawal. While he still had pain in his back (sometimes debilitating, but he wouldn’t let you know that) Dave made the conscious decision to step away from all the prescribed pain killers. He didn’t want to live that way and honestly, things weren’t improving. Doctors weren’t helping his body re-calibrate. Instead, they were maintaining a dependency which, after he went through hell, we realized was an internal broken cycle of systemic craving inducing more pain. The process was slow — beginning in the early part of the year. As Dave stepped away from one prescription and tackled the tapering of a different one, he had to readjust and deal with plateaus as his body worked to keep up. But then “the event” happened. Due to a pharmaceutical shortage and a weekend delay, his prescription for the last bit of junk he was still on, couldn’t get filled. A body off schedule and lacking its ‘fix’ has a mind of its own. The withdraw had begun and Dave elected to ride it out. He wanted to be done. Mid-June into July was a blur as his whole system dealt with a nightmarish state. Plans we were making for summer were put on pause. While not cancer in its clinical form, this was, in my opinion, just as sinister and ugly. If you ever had to break any type of addiction and/or systemic dependency or were there with someone while they detoxed, you will know what a dark, scary, lonely and horribly excruciating road has to be traveled. To our friends and family who were there to help, I don’t believe there are words to express the gratitude we felt then and still do today. It was not what we had planned for those summer weeks, yet it was a necessary evil. Thank you for helping us through.
Dave took the opportunity of this medicinal break to seek out some alternative help. We had been researching acupuncture since spring but he had not had a chance to make an appointment. As things tend to work, the time was right and the right practitioner presented himself to Dave. The result? Well, exactly one month after the onset of withdrawal, Dave was able to hike up to Natural Bridge in the mountains of Kentucky. Twice.
He then was able to play like one of the kids on the beach for a week and kayak for miles. He’s now signed up to run the Hudy 7k with me next month. He laughs and smiles and nowhere in those actions are the spurts of pain he previously would try to shield behind his eyes. He’s back and he’s healthy — finally — in body, mind and spirit. It’s so good to see him this way. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again — I’m one lucky girl to have him as my soulmate.
There will always be reminders of the past two years. We find things from that period tucked away in odd places in the house. We have loved ones and friends who are in the middle of their cancer treatments. Chatter of radiation and chemo will never go away. But they won’t have the same intensity.
Last night, we had a chance to finally watch the movie 50/50 — a gift from Brandon and honestly one of the best movies we have seen in some time. Let’s just say that if we had seen this in a theater full of people they would have thought we were deranged. We laughed out loud at scenes that most people would not see as ‘funny.’ We recalled times of fear. We remembered how sick Dave was. We yelled back at the characters on screen. And we said good-bye to it all. An odd way to close it down but so very us.
Yes, there will be check-ups and oncology appointments…continious scans and blood draws. But, there will not be the fear. The shadow of ‘Roger’ and its sinister pain parade have finally been diminished in our hearts and minds. We’ve conquered. We’re saying hello again to our lives. Living free is so much more fun.
So, with all that, I’m not sure where this blog is going next. We’ve got some trips to Nashville on the radar so most likely it will be back to its roots: crazy road trips and even crazier dreams. We’ll make sure to post from time to time. Read as you desire. Until then, take care and be good. Live, love and laugh. ~ Jacqui
Time to Float
Sometimes you need to check out for a bit in order to check back in.
Have you ever looked outside a window or run an errand at mid-day and seen people sitting on a bench? Have you ever wondered why they were there and more importantly, why they weren’t someplace else? Like say, their job?
Yesterday, Dave and I were those people… sitting on a bench by the river… in the middle of the day. By 1:00 each of us had texted the other saying similar: we couldn’t focus on any work in front of us. The minutes leading to the oncology consult were long. Scary long. Our minds were each going into dangerous places. So we made a call. We met in a parking lot and went someplace we’d never been together before down by the river. We sat and watched the barges. We wasted some precious paid time off but that was okay. It is what we both needed to do. When we did speak, it was in terms of odds and probability. We both knew that, statistically speaking, this is the time when the majority of people with Dave’s form of cancer (the classification he was given) have a relapse. Getting through this gate was important. Our senses were heightened because of Dave’s continual level of pain in the area where the tumor had originally been. The pain was the trigger that got him to the doctor almost two years ago.
Finally, it was time to go.
Walking into the oncologists office six months after the last visit was not as unnerving as some may suspect. It was good to see the staff — they greeted us with big smiles and sweet chit-chat. We took that as a good sign. It softened the edge.
Of course, our doc is the master of the poker face. Any time he walks into the exam room it is with the same level of measured calm. We get it. But still when he quietly says, “So, how are you?” and is holding an envelope, Dave can’t reply any other way than, “Well, perhaps you can tell me how I am?”
In doc’s words, the scans looked good. The cancer remains in control and there are no new instances of anything sinister showing up on the radar. The scar tissue seems to have shrunk even more within the past six months. He’s feeling good regarding how things are progressing. Remission status stays intact. And as with every discussion, more assurances come the closer Dave gets to late September 2013, the year three mark.
Of course, the puzzling thing is still the pain. Our oncologist said that generally at this point and with this type of cancer, the pain caused by the tumor’s residence is gone. So, more discussion about new ways to deal with it. The big assurance for Dave was that the pain didn’t mean it was back. The body is just taking it’s time to heal.
So what was learned and gained through all of this? Definitely some new perspective and hope that as the every six month scans and consults continue, the anxiety lessens. I don’t want to lose precious minutes, hours and days worrying about the what ifs. It is time to walk away from that and time to float. To enjoy. To not live life (or be afraid to live life) because of a date on the calendar that “could change things.”
Beating the odds at this level is a wonderful boost. Dave felt great with the news (as anyone in his shoes would) but even better about his overall prognosis. While we agreed that as silly as it was, sitting on a bench by the river was a good thing to do yesterday, but we will not repeat that sort of behavior come December. We’re going to work to release the monsters of our imaginations and take life as it is. Besides, it would be too cold. ~ Jacqui
The Weight of Waiting
Dave just left for his 18 month scans. We won’t know what they reveal until late Thursday.
His cancer, while in remission, is in a precarious period. I don’t say that to get attention or put a negative spin on things. It is a simple fact. You have to have a good, long string of clean scans in order to get the “free” sticker. So far he has two.
Ask any cancer fighter and he or she will tell you that scan day is not a fun day. Try as one might, it’s hard to get a good mental angle. We live in an instant society. Waiting for “the read” seems archaic and cruel. But that is the way it is.
There’s a jag in our rhythm right now. Is the unknown phantom still that — a wisp of nothing? Or, has it started to organize itself into a shape — something with dimension and heft? It makes me wonder when … if … this part of things will ever feel commonplace. I know there is nothing I can do right now to change things so it is best to just get on with the day.
We won’t know until Thursday.
Giving Cancer the Boot
I haven’t written anything public in awhile. I’ve been keeping things more inside of late. In the time since the last scans (holidays) and now I’ve been trying to figure out the rhythm of Dave’s remission so far. Let’s just say it is not as I thought it would be. Heck, none of this is how anyone thinks it would be. And perhaps it is the not knowing that helps you get through life’s changes. Think about it, if you knew, really knew, what was around the bend would you ever approach the bend? Heady stuff for pre-dawn I know.
The good news is that Dave continues to be in remission. There still is pain and I guess we won’t know for awhile if this is permanent damage from tumor aggrevation, radiation or a combo thereof. He’s made some conscious decisions to explore different methods of dealing with the cruddy leftovers that cancer leaves behind. Some days are good… some days are slow. But they are days and I am grateful to have them.
And if you know Dave, well, he doesn’t stop. He gives it his all. And this Friday will be no exception.
Once again, our incredible group of family and friends have rallied to relay with us in the 12-hour Relay for Life in Campbell County. This is one of many American Cancer Relays which take place all over the U.S. and around the world to raise both awareness and funds for cancer research, treatment and screenings. Relay started in 1985 and is a pretty incredible experience. If you have a second, read it’s quick history here. Once again proof of what one person can do with an idea.
If you will be in the Newport, Kentucky area this Friday night, swing by the track and say hello. The Nashville or Bust team will be decked out in its new finery (thanks, Jason for the design and Jameson for the screen printing awesomeness!) and doing its best to give cancer the boot. We’ll also be making pancakes from 11 p.m. to 1 a.m. as our on-track fundraiser. I can guarantee that these beat your momma’s pancakes hands down. I mean, pancakes always taste better at night in the fresh open air, right?
To read more about our team, here’s a link to its official page. Dave and I each have our pages in there, too. We’ll be livecasting the evening via FB and Twitter (my @redshoegirl account) so you can walk along with us wherever you are.
Never doubt for a minute that we wouldn’t be here had it not been for your continued expressions of love and support. Trust me, it is something I’ll be thinking about a lot as I lap the track and flip the stacks. Peace. ~ Jacqui
‘Tis the Season ~ 2011
A quick post to share some seasonal joy. Our year began a bit dark and uncertain. I don’t need to rehash it all. But it is closing with so much love and light and good stuff — we’re bursting. It feels great!
On December 1, Dave learned that his 6-month post treatment scans were clear. Roger — the sinister tumor that was — stayed away. Nothing new was lurking. What an incredible way to come off of our post-Thanksgiving fullness and enter December with a good dose of happy. And relief. We didn’t want to assume that we would get this result. I guess we’ll always go to each oncology appointment prepared to accept whatever news. But to watch Dave receive the word that yes things looked good was the best present ever. Year one is complete.
Dave used the good news (and the mild temps) to channel his inner elf-likeness. Lights, decorations, music, soup… everything he somewhat ‘missed’ last year he made up for in double-time. Before my eyes, our house took on an enchanted, bustling feeling. It’s been fun to just hunker down and enjoy every moment of it. And the tree looks quite awesome. I couldn’t resist taking a nap underneath its magical boughs with the cats. Mmmm… tree naps.
This burst of activity also became the catalyst for a new thing to try — crafting. We wanted to make something to express how much we appreciated those who stood by us throughout this crazy year. It took a bit of sourcing and several nights of therapeutic assembly but the end results make us smile. Behold — ornaments. 
The delicate wooden snowflakes represent how unique, beautiful and fragile each of us are. And snowflakes, when all bunched up together, are pure power. Ask Ralphie.
The lime green ribbon is for awareness of a disease that will always require some form of fight. Our club color, if you will. It reminds us of what we have learned about ourselves and each other. It helps us recall every person we have met along Cancer Road — those who still fight, those who support, those who work to heal and those who we remember with tenderness and gratitude. The ribbon unites us all.
The silver disk is of course the silver lining that every cloud carries. Engraved with the word ‘Believe,’ it symbolizes that which kept us all going and in many ways that which kept us sane. Small, strong, solid, ever-present and also easy to lose — it augments our little creation with the exact thing that got us to today. Never give up. Never stop. Believe.
So there you have it… a glimpse at what we’ve been doing and how we’re putting a bow on 2011. Brandon is home from college and James and Tessa are almost done with school. We’re anxiously looking forward to days spent together, visits with family and friends, new memories, old traditions, warm socks and maybe, if we’re lucky, a nice little snow.
Love, laughter and light to all. Peace. Happy Merry. Believe in the magic. It’s all good. ~ Jacqui
Thinking Back — Looking Forward
We never had a chance to comment on our final day in Nashville. Perhaps it was because it was so sweet, we decided to hold on to it awhile. While all the events leading to Saturday were just plain fantastic, it was the little things that happened during our “last call” so to speak that still have me buzzing with so many good feelings. I can’t help but smile when I think of that afternoon.
We decided to skip on conference activities in order to make good on our promise to see Jake Mauer and his band tear things up at Tootsie’s. Ah yes, Tootsie’s and Jake. That’s really how this whole crazy affair with Nashville got started a few years back. It was a fluke that has turned into a friendship and following over the miles. I could really get philosophical right now but I’ll save you that. Just know that we believe the circumstances that caused us to bump into Jake three years ago were intended to help us see things a bit differently… and find focus on what really brings out our happy. Beer not required.
Jake was playing the 2:00 to 5:30 afternoon slot and he generally has a good crowd. But when we got there at 3:00, the place was PACKED. I wasn’t sure if Dave was going to be able to make it for more than a few songs without a place to sit, but once again the bar stool gods smiled upon us. Wedged waaaay back at the ‘big table’ were two empty seats. A polite inquiry and purchase of a round and we were invited to join a haphazard party in progress. That’s Tootsie’s for you.
There was a lot of banter going on between the stage and the crowd — half of which were Georgia Bulldog fans in town for the big game at Vandy. Jake treated them kindly and in return they made sure he and the band were hydrated and rewarded. (You don’t request a song without the proper dead president attached, now hear.) Things got a bit testy when the band fired up “Rockytop.” *snicker* Just when it seemed right for a brawl to break out, Jake’s fiddle player took command with “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” People where a’whompin’ and a’stompin’. It felt good to be there taking in all the unadulterated ruckus. We chatted with our table mates and swayed with the music. We smiled up at the faded 8 x 10 images of the legends who had graced this place over the years. We realized how much we loved that quirky little bar with all its quirky memories. We got sentimental thinking about the past year, and excited plotting the years to come.
And while that was our internal feeling in the two seats waaaay in the back, it quickly became external. Jake, the incredible guy that he is, dedicated a very special toast to Dave and let everyone know that he was in town for a reason. As he put it, this was Dave’s “I kicked Cancer Tour” — and to that, all those fine people raised their beers. Not too many people get a “Holler ‘n Swaller” in their honor. In that moment, Dave took my kiss from Jim Lauderdale and raised it by 10. Booyah!
Of course, Jake and the band played “Wagon Wheel” and we realized this silly song has become an anthem of sorts. Our table mates were clinking our bottles and people patted Dave on the back. Everybody sang along (Dave took the girl part) and through the smiles and the festivity, we each let a tear hit the floor as we held on.
And that’s where I’ll let this story come to its wonderful close — cryin’ in a honky-tonk while the guitar part comes around again. Appropriate, agree? I mean come on… this is Nashville.
Americana Music Festival and Conference, Day 2
My mind is still spinning from yesterday. So much so I’m not sure where to begin or what to put down.
If you want to fast forward to some good coverage of the Americana Music Awards show, click here for the official story. I still can’t believe that a.) we got to vote for all those fine awards and b.) we got to see the show itself! Some of our picks panned out, others didn’t. But all in all, an excellent time.
Yesterday found us taking in a lot of things prior to the “big show” at The Ryman. And as creatures of habit, some of our very favorite things. We took a break from lanyards and swag bags and found time for a little stroll. Impromptu stroll shot. Happy faces. Love life!
First stop, Gruhn Guitars. What a treat to stop in mid-day, mid-week when the place was somewhat empty. We made sure not to drool… too much. Dave had his eye on a Gretsch Country Gentleman before we strolled over to the acoustic section. While I have my faves, I’ve always loved the look (and sound when played by others than I) of the Gibson Hummingbird. Of course, there had to be one there with the red sides. And I had to remind Dave… don’t touch! 
The stop at Gruhn was productive. Dave was able to ask the pros a few questions regarding my mom’s Martin (we learned some things about pre-1985 Martins) and I loaded up on guitar picks. We also had one of those classic ‘Dave & Jacqui’ encounters with a fellow traveler.
His name is Ben. He’s a retired Criminal Justice professor from Texas A&M… yes, as in REK & Lyle College Station. ANYWAY we bumped into Ben as he was picking up this guitar. 
Now there’s quite a back story to this (and I’m sure y’all are scratching your heads as I’m leaving it at that) but I do hope that he and his wife have a grand drive through Kentucky into West Virginia. Find that jam, Ben … and then find eBay. Yours is a glorious plan.
Our wanderings took us to Hatch Show Print. All the cool cats were there (Huey & Maow) and it was fun to chat with the folks who keep this little bit of Americana in motion.
It also was great to get a bit whiff of printer’s ink. It’s better than coffee in the morning, any day. (And you know how I love my coffee.) If you aren’t familiar with Hatch then I highly recommend this great piece about its history.
As we were leaving Hatch, Dave started to ask me if I wanted to look at boots. I love it when he talks to me that way. So we started to meander once again. For grins we went into Boot Country where you can buy one pair at regular price and get two pair free. I don’t know why we go into that store because really, they will never have that dream boot of mine. By nature, the store and it’s wares a bit pedestrian and touristy, a quantity versus quality experience. It was fun to look and easy to move on.
We spied a new place across the way called Betty Boots that we wanted to check. Just by the window you could tell this WAS more the place. Unfortunately, they had a no photo policy in store and that’s a shame. So many beautiful things I wanted to capture and stash in my dream book. Beautiful boots, clothes (all with vintage inspiration and flair), satchels. Dave kept encouraging me to try on a pair but I was a bit shy. Definitely closer and perhaps there (the aqua one with the red detail from the window is the one he kept picking up) but in time.
Now, while I’ve had my thing for boots, Dave has had his thing for hats. I’m not talking cowboy hats (as we all know that’s not quite ‘him’) but something else with a bit of flair. He almost left without it. But then it called back to him. Similar to the instantaneous bond between boy and puppy, this man and this hat were made for each other. Mission success!
We were able to meet up with Jake Mauer during his acoustic set at Rippy’s. He sat with us a bit to catch up and talk about his current project. It’s funny how this long-distance connection continues to thrive and like with a lot of things, I’m not questioning, just enjoying. Sometimes, people were just destined to meet up with other people. Jake played us ‘Wagon Wheel’ for old times sake and then with our encouragement, treated us to one of his new songs. It was splendid and we both really hope this guy gets his break. Funny thing, after he sang one of his songs someone came up to him and bought one of his CDs. He looked our way and I just said, “See… what happens when you play one of yours?” We’re going to catch up with Jake and his full band later this weekend.
So, I end this one with where I started… the 10th Annual Americana Awards show. Jim Lauderdale was the host and as he said what makes this genre of music so special is the people. People who put music first. Music that represents us all. 
As we sat in the Ryman, the Mother Church of Music filled with ghosts, spirit and splendor, we felt so right. And that in and of itself felt so good. What a treat. What a celebration. What a journey. Not just this past year but the past twenty-one.
The show had plenty of surprises and outstanding performances, too many for me to replay. But all jumbled up in my heart and my soul it took on a magic of its own. 
Rarely am I spellbound but for those few hours, it was a genuine emotion. For others in attendance, it was just another awards show. But for us, that night and that music will always be simply perfect. ~Jacqui
Year One: Complete
Today is September 23. One year ago today (on a sunny Thursday) I was sitting at work when I got a call from Dave. Most of you know the drill from there. (And if you are new here, this post may help.)
It’s human to use anniversaries to sling-shot back in time, reflect on what happened, celebrate, mourn — some of the above, all of the above. I did my fair share of that yesterday on what was a different Thursday — the last of this cycle called year one:
After Dave received some good news in May, I made a deliberate choice to step away from the blog for awhile. We had things to do as a family … Brandon’s graduation, our first participation in the Relay for Life, a quick trip back to Woods Creek Lake, random weekend activities and days at the pool, packing Brandon up for college and helping him step into that new phase. There were a zillion blog posts packed in there but I decided not to write. I needed to step away for a bit and interject quiet. This place where I have been free to share, celebrate, question and rant will forever have a link to (dramatically whispers) Cancer… you know, cancer? If I didn’t write, there wouldn’t be any tag-on cancer reporting therefore, no more cancer. Me and my silly logic. Move on.
In the last phase of year one I’ve had to watch Dave wrestle with what early remission is… and what it is not. Primarily, there is not a magic moment when everything is coated in moon dust and all pain and fears are erased forever. There is no big ‘undo’ button, no riding off into the sunset moment — as perhaps my last post left things. Remission is gradual — and hard. But it is living and Dave continues to amaze and inspire me everyday. Conditions are still adverse in their own right and the support system of a hyper-connected medical team has naturally drifted into a different mode. All those appointments, meetings and schedules kept us rational — we were fed constant bits of information that helped us each react accordingly. We had steps each to take and things to check off the list. This quiet time with its focus on total healing allows for a lot of emotional thinking. It’s easy to get lost and tangled in the clouds. And there is always the nagging question, do you ever really heal?
In a few weeks, we’ll be back in Nashville. It is going to be quite a trip. We said we would go back to celebrate and that is exactly what we are going to do. I anticipate that while the pace may still be slow the time away — and the music — are going to be great medicine. We’re looking forward to it and we are going to do our best to post as we can from the Americana Music Festival and Conference.
So with this post, we really do close a chapter and start something new. We have a lot to look forward to and a lot we want to enjoy and do. The static of work situations and world conditions can just fade away for a moment. We made it to this day. To be honest, 365 days ago, I couldn’t see it.
Boy Cleans Up Good
It’s been one heck of a week.
Last Monday, Dave was recognized on campus with quite an honor. Along with colleague Bob Eveslage, Dave received the House/Bruckmann Award at Cincinnati State for faculty excellence. Nominated and voted upon by their peers, the annual award recognizes two faculty members who go above and beyond. I was able to sneak out and attend the ceremony and I am so glad that I did. Besides there being cake (mmm…. cake) there was a lot of love, gratitude and pride in that room among everyone there. Dave and I knew it was a special award but we didn’t quite realize the magnitude of the moment until we were in it. And on the brink of waiting for test results, it was a nice respite. 
But there were still a few days between Monday’s celebration and “the appointment.” Without admitting it to each other, we were both trying to get through the week without worry. It was hard. No, strike that, it was messy. My head and heart were twisted worse than a pretzel. Hassles with hospital billing drug me through the muck and reminded me again of all the realities and the possibilities; things I had wanted to forget and things I didn’t want to face. I cried a lot and sometimes I just didn’t know why. I gave up on eye make-up. I wrote some pretty bad poetry that seemed like a good idea at the time. I found solace in leftover cake. It was weird.
Thursday finally came around. As I met up with Dave in the familiar lobby of the oncologist I realized that despite what the scans said, we had each come a long way and we’d continue to go forward. Dave looked good. He was not the same man who sat in the same chair near the coat rack a few months ago. And it was time to find out what step was next.
The CT scan was pretty consistent with the scan taken post chemo and just prior to radiation. The remaining bit of ‘Roger’ didn’t grow and actually got a smidge smaller.The consensus is that this bit of stuff seen on the films is scar tissue. We had been told that because of the original tumor size, there would probably always be a little something in the picture — the wadded up housing of what once held a blobby mass of mutating danger. Things were progressing well. And instead of rushing back in to more follow-up tests in a few weeks, the oncologist felt good about Dave’s response. Nothing to do or see here until Thanksgiving when the guitar part comes around again. It took a bit of courage for Dave to ask when he’d start hearing about remission. The doc quietly looked at his watch then up at Dave and said, “You’re in remission now.” I’m not sure if you are supposed to dance in an examination room but I was about ready to give it a try. It’s not everyday you hear something like that.
We rounded out the week celebrating the end of school for the kids. And for Brandon, the end of an era. If you’re going to have a week of weird emotions, you might as well throw those into the hopper, too, no? Somehow through all of this our band of five also navigated a Senior Year. Graduation is this coming Sunday. We have a lot to celebrate.
Now who wants cake?
~Jacqui
What Will We CT?
So it has been nearly six weeks since the last post. A nice bubble of no treatments and minus one MRI to help diagnose continual back pain — no tests. (The MRI showed a happy, healthy spine so the docs believe the back pain is residual from all the nerve pressure, etc.) Dave has been doing great. The recovery isn’t instantaneous but with each day he is getting more in step with where he wants to be. And so am I. There is an element of loveliness in the mundane.
But things start up again tomorrow with the first big post treatment photo shoot. I’d be fibbing if I didn’t say I wasn’t a wee bit anxious. Dave has a CT scheduled at the crack of dawn. The results from this will give him an indication of how well the six rounds of chemo layered with a month of radiation worked against Roger the Tumor. Our hope is that there is no wicked grin staring back on the films. Because then it would be back to white coats, plans, treatments and yes, hospital lounge/soft-rock crooning from Lionel and company.
Those are things I am not looking for.
~ Jacqui
Nashville or Bust 