Books: Reading Chicago

by anneMoore on September 7, 2015

I curate the literature listings in Crain’s Chicago Business quarterly Guide to Culture. I feature visits by blockbuster authors, the U.S. poet laureate, scientists, historians. For this list I am always on the lookout for Chicago-based authors.

This season I am newly and happily acquainted with three local writers.

voiceover_artist_cover_alban_fischerI read Dave Reidy’s The Voice Over Artist, a first novel set mostly in Chicago, about two brothers, the mother they lose, the father they abide, their professions (one is an improvisor, the other a voice over artist) and, most convincingly, the women in their lives.

One of the brothers, who stutters, made himself mute as a child and much of this story is Simon’s struggle to speak confidently and, eventually, professionally. The improv sections read true — Reidy credits the stage work of my friend David Pasquesi and T.J. Jagodowski — as do the tangled affairs of secondary characters.

To be published in November, it’s an impressive debut.

imagesNext I read two works by Joe Meno. Office Girl is a bittersweet tale of Chicago hipsters. Odile makes age-appropriate poor decisions (an affair with a married man, hand jobs in the office broom closet) while Jack, whose wife has left him, records sounds. “The sound of her empty gray pillow…the sound of Monday, February 2…the sound of the traffic light making its alterations overhead…” Precious? Yes, but Jack and Odile are smart and delightful as they fall in and out of love. These are fully drawn characters making their way to who they’ll become.

images-1Meno’s Marvel and A Wonder, newly published, is more my kind of read. It’s long, engaging and beautifully written, like Faulkner but also its own thing. (That is, I didn’t set it down to read Faulkner, as I do when I (try to) read Cormac McCarthy.) Meno’s story is set in Indiana, on a failing chicken farm. There, its aging owner lives with, and tries to understand, his mixed-race teenage grandson, who has been left behind by his drug-addict mother. When a white race horse comes into their possession, the story takes off, violently.

Meno told me he wrote the book as an homage to his father in law and men of that generation, men who could make and fix things with their hands. It’s a wholly satisfying read, one that will go on my Literature of the Midwest shelf, beside John Williams’ Stoner, Dan Chaon’s Await Your Reply, Chad Harbach’s The Art of Fielding.

images-2Finally, I read Vu Tran’s Dragonfish. (Tran teaches writing at The University of Chicago.) This is being hawked as crime fiction — and there is plenty of violence — but it reads more like a journey of discovery by a white cop unraveling the mystery of his former wife Suzy, a Vietnamese immigrant. It’s a well plotted, enchanting read — though I’m still not sure what she was running from, or to. Loved the duffel full of cash as endnote.

A postscript, dear readers: here’s a link that illustrates the need for adult and child literacy programs, via my friends at Grammarly,


Reading Pythonga: Part 2

by anneMoore on August 16, 2015

Do we save “big reads” for summer? More and more, I do. There’s more unbroken time, whether its outside on a cushy chaise in my Chicago backyard or on the dock/at the beach/in the boat at Lac IMG_1623Pythonga. Why more time? Simpler summer food at home and, at Pythonga, all meals come from the club. (Thank you, kitchen staff!)

Earlier this summer I swallowed whole Melville’s Moby Dick while I was in Pythonga. What a read! Exhausting, exhilarating.

More recently I brought Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter with me, a book I’d read when I was 14 and didn’t remember.

imagesFourteen? Who assigned that? The Scarlet Letter gives us a tasty triangle in Puritan New England: a woman won’t name the father of her child borne out of wedlock, the returned husband won’t claim her or the child, the town’s minister falls ill from his guilt — and is “cared for” by the husband, who is a healer.

It’s not an easy read, because Hawthorne’s language is dense, but there’s an immediate urgency — how will this play out? — as well as delightful descriptions of the willful child. Hester Prynne’s transformation from victim to feminist makes for a deeply satisfying read.

images-1Next, I picked up Peter Nichols’ The Rocks, set on the sunny island of Mallorca. Its start is irresistible: two former lovers, in their 80s, run into each other on the road. They squabble, tussle, and fall into the sea together. Their paired deaths sets the story in motion, backwards 60 years through the life of the resort she runs and the farm he tends, the children they raise, various lovers. What terrible thing drove them apart? By the end we learn the brutal truth. A smart, engaging family saga.

images-2Finally, because I’d seen it listed among the best American books chosen by international writers, I took up a slender volume by E.L. Doctrow, Sweet Land Stories. I’m glad I did. There are five and each will stay with me for a long time: they’re intimate portraits of darkly misguided Americans. We meet a stylish murderess who’s always one step ahead of the law, a couple that comes to love each other after kidnapping a baby, a cuckolded husband left behind in a religious cult. Flawless.

Happy summer. It ain’t over.


Books: Go Set a Watchman

by anneMoore on July 23, 2015

I’ve written earlier about reading on a device: sure it’s great for travel (endless titles, one gadget!) but holding a book in hand, in a public place, creates the opportunity for conversation.

US_cover_of_Go_Set_a_WatchmanEarlier this week I was on a city bus midday, going to a doctor’s appointment. I was finishing Harper Lee’s Go Set a Watchman, the controversial early work sequel to her famous To Kill a Mockingbird.

The man across from me, a tourist from New Orleans, asked if it were good, worth reading. Yes, I said, to spend time with the grown Scout and for the time capsule of a Southern town in the mid-1950’s. Too, there are passages of great beauty. The ugly racism promoted by Scout’s father, aunt and uncle and her boyfriend is difficult to read, but made clear: these characters don’t want their way of life to change. They want racially separate schools and they want no blacks to hold office. It is cringe-worthy reading. (The older woman beside me on the bus had read the book, and said that was how it was in the South then. She added, pointing to my book, that she’d read it on a device and wished she’d bought a physical copy, for her shelves.)

Here’s the story: In her late 20’s Scout comes home to Maycomb, Alabama to visit her aging father Atticus. Brother Jem is dead, young, from the same bum heart that felled their mother. Atticus suffers from arthritis, but otherwise seems much the same man he was in Mockingbird: warm and wise. Henry, a poor boy taken in by Atticus, is now an attorney; he wants to marry Scout. Remember tomboy Scout? She’s no different here, fretting that, if she were to marry, she wouldn’t know how to wear a hat and she’d drop the babies. When Scout follows her father to a town council meeting, she is stunned — and falls ill — to learn that those she loves most are racist.

The next day Scout wakes to her new world. “On any other day she would have stood barefoot on the wet grass listening to the mockingbirds’ early service; she would have pondered over the meaninglessness of silent, austere beauty renewing itself with every sunrise and going ungazed at by half the world. She would have walked beneath yellow-ringed pines rising to a brilliant eastern sky, and her sense would have succumbed to the joy of the morning.”

Is this a great book? No. (If you haven’t read Mockingbird, it will bewilder.) It’s mostly a sweet, funny coming-of-age story, with flashbacks to school days with Jem, Dill, and young Henry. This is a book that should be read for that story, but also for its setting, at a time when intelligent, educated people actively favored segregation.

{ 1 comment }

Reading Pythonga, 2015

by anneMoore on July 8, 2015

A friend heading to the Galapagos Islands asked my advice for a breezy read, a light but engaging page-turner. Not my kind of read, but I scanned my shelves: Nick Hornby’s Funny Girl, Kevin Kwan’s Crazy Rich Asians, John Kenney’s Truth in Advertising. Not light but certainly engaging, Dan Chaon’s Await Your Reply.

What is my kind of read? Big long books that keep me company for days, books like Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch or Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life.

IMG_1623You’ll laugh, but my latest big book read is Herman Melville’s Moby Dick or the Whale, which I somehow missed as an English major. No regrets: it’s a long, rich read that deserves an adult consumer.

Why now? I saw a stage rendition — really — that was so impressive I had to hoist the 824 page book and bring it with me to my favorite reading spot, Lac Pythonga, in Quebec.

A wise choice, as I had long hours of uninterrupted reading sitting on the dock, in a boat, on a screened porch. Its subject is whaling in general and the hunt for the great white whale Moby Dick, in particular, which will be the crews’ undoing.

Its pleasures come not only from the relentless plot; it is Melville’s writing that entices, and puts him in league with Whitman. Here, the Pequod reaches the Pacific Ocean: “When gliding by the Bashee isles we emerged at last upon the great South Sea; were it not for other things, I could have greeted my dear Pacific with uncounted thanks, for now the long supplication of my youth was answered; that serene ocean rolled eastwards from me a thousand leagues of blue.”

If you haven’t read, do. But give yourself space and time to absorb this full-bodied American tale.

{ 1 comment }

Books: Summer Reading

by anneMoore on June 14, 2015

Summer, and the reading is breezy.

First, Jess Walter’s The Financial Lives of the Poets (2009). I was a  fan of his 2013 Beautiful Ruins, so I picked up one of his earlier novels. I’m glad I did. Walter is a deft storyteller; I fall easily into the worlds he creates.

Financiallives_-210Key on that 2009 publication date, because in “…Poets” that’s the place Walter puts us, post-crash and well into the Internet age.

Matthew Prior is a business reporter who quits his job to create a Web site for financial news told in blank verse. At the same time, his hot wife — bored, taking care of their children — maxes out their credit cards, bing-buying on-line. When we meet them, Prior is broke and unemployed and his wife, stripped of credit, is e-flirting with her high school boyfriend. They’re about to lose their home and their marriage.

A late night trip to 7-Eleven for milk puts Prior in the company of young drug dealers, who turn him on to extremely potent weed. Could they get him more? To save his home, Prior becomes first a pot dealer and then a government informant. Nutty? Yes, deliciously so. Also: Sad, funny, spot on.

bk-oend-pg_copyI can’t recall who pointed me to Claire Fuller’s Our Endless Numbered Days, a beautifully written, deeply unsettling tale of a father and daughter who flee London for a hut in the German woods. How they survive is fascinating. How it all ends is disturbing, haunting. It took me days to get these people out of my system.

Kent Haruf’s Plainsong (1999) is a favorite of mine. He died last year and left a novella, Our Souls at Night. What a lovely read.

9781101875896Widowed and lonely, Addie Moore proposes to neighbor Louis Waters, also widowed, that they spend their nights together. They do, and set tongues wagging in their small Colorado town. Their grown children object, but the two carry on. Their nighttime talks reveal their lives: the death of Addie’s daughter, Louis’s affair with a fellow teacher.

When Addie’s young grandson comes to live with her, the three become a family, playing baseball, going camping, adopting a dog. Nothing happens, everything happens. Perfectly told.

PH2010020504485I discovered Sadie Jones with her latest, Fallout, set in 1970’s London theater. Her Small Wars (2009) is the story — with twists and turns — of a military officer, his wife and children, his colleagues, their friends and families, and the battle for Cyprus during World War 11.

The toll of war is fully, smartly, surprisingly realized. Bravo, Sadie Jones.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Books: Mother’s Day

by anneMoore on May 9, 2015

When I finish a book that I’ve loved reading, my first thought is: Will Mom? My mother, like my son Evan, consumes books as though they are air, necessary for survival. She is always in a book, or five if none of them are pleasing. Unlike me, she’ll read an unlikeable book to its end.

FullSizeRenderIn the past year I’ve sent or brought her Grace Coddington’s memoir, Ian McEwan’s The Children Act, John LeCarre’s A Delicate Truth, Nick Hornby’s Funny Girl and Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven. For Mother’s Day I sent her Jonathan Miles’ Want Not, with a note that she would need to get past the first chapter, which can repel. She’s not a book snob: she’ll read rom coms my sister Liza picks up in airports.

One book I won’t be sending her is T. C. Boyle’s The Harder They Come. It’s a great read, but it’s too dark for her.

Here’s the story: Sten Stensen is a recently retired high school principal cruising the Caribbean with his wife of 40 years, Carolee. A bus ride to a nature walk in Jamaica turns deadly, when Sten and his fellow tourists are held up. Sten is a big man, a Vietnam veteran, and he does what he’s been trained to do: kill the enemy.

Celebrated, Sten and Carolee resume life in their Northern California home, with a sea view, bordering a redwood forest. Sten is bothered by the death he caused, and the press it attracts. Otherwise, theirs seems a sweet life, time for coffee together or a restaurant meal and too much wine. Then we meet their twenty-something son Adam, a mentally ill self-styled survivalist drug dealer, and Adam’s love interest, an anarchist named Sara, who’s in her 40’s.

What can I say? I love a train wreck and this one ends in the largest, longest manhunt in California history.

Boyle is an engaging storyteller, and this — his fourteenth novel — is a funny, smart, moving read. It’s just not for Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

I love a good, long read. The book becomes a part of me, an extension of my arms, I panic when I don’t remember where I’ve set it.

n-ALITTLELIFE-large570At 720 pages, Hanya Yanagihara’s A Little Life is one of those reads. I carried it around for more than a week, and I loved it — though I nearly put it down, because her characters seemed so familiar to me. They are four friends from college, each ambitious in a different field, newly settled in New York City. One is an architect, another an actor, a third is a painter and the fourth — the story’s main character — is an attorney with a crippled body and mind.

His is the story of this magnificent novel, her second: how Jude St. Francis went from there (an abandoned infant found and raised by monks) to here (a Greene Street loft, a country home in Garrison, the love of his best friend). The reader learns of Jude’s harrowing youth but his friends, doctor and newly found family do not, and they puzzle over his self-destructive ways. (He’s a cutter, a failed suicide, an anorexic.)

What is he hiding? His life before: one of the monastery’s brothers persuades the young Jude to run away with him. From there, the boy becomes a sex slave. As a young teen, Jude flees a group home — and hustles to survive — but he’s captured by a sadist, who, after raping him repeatedly, runs his car over Jude.

Yes, this is difficult reading. We root for Jude over and over again: he’s a survivor, he’s whip-smart, he’s beautiful, his friends and adoptive parents adore him. But when he dares to love, as an adult, Jude is abused again, beaten and thrown down a flight of stairs.

Re-enter Willem, one of the four friends, who has become a film star. He moves in with Jude, to care for him, and falls in love with Jude. Theirs is a sweet, troubled romance.

Much happens, nothing happens: reading this book is sort of like watching the film Boyhood. No happy endings, though. Jude can’t escape his past and can’t bear his present. The book is overly long, but I didn’t want to give up any of these characters. It’s a life, richly told.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Reading: In the Cold, in the Warmth

by anneMoore on April 8, 2015

I am just returned from a week in the Scottsdale, Arizona sun: 90 degrees, dry, mountains, desert, family, swimming, running, reading. It was perfect. A shout out to my mom, at whose home we crashed for a few days — she loved it — before heading to a resort, The Sanctuary at Camelback, in Paradise Valley.

misty_morningThere I appreciated the casita-style lodgings, the uncrowded pools, the swanky spa, the serene yoga studio, the mountain views from our (two!) decks. Our teenage daughter will always remember the handsome bellboy, whom we named Ken Doll Sean. My only gripe: poor service and overpriced food. Head elsewhere for meals, especially dinner.

I will get to books… First, off-the-resort eating in Scottsdale. After an evening walk through the Desert Botanical Garden, a favorite of mine, we headed to Los Sombreros, a family-owned Mexican restaurant. Great choice! It’s small, and we sat outside. (Outside, in March!) Our romance-novel-worthy waiter (Ken Doll Estaban) dared my husband to sample their hottest salsa. We did; it was. Estaban suggested the black bean, onion, chorizo queso fundido: yum. I especially liked the right-size taco entrees, without the dump of rice and refried beans filling the plate. Skip the house margaritas: they taste metallic.

Another night we had a family meal at Zinc Bistro, a French place in Kierland Commons. Everyone — teens to the elder set — is happy here. The food is authentic, the service spot on. Start with a charcuterie and cheese board. Steak frites, mais oui. Salmon over couscous, a bowl of moules. It’s all good.

9781609450786_p0_v3_s260x420And now, to books. Back at home in dreary cold Chicago I made my way through Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend, first in series of three. It’s the story of two poor girls growing up in post-war Naples. One is studious; the other, a beauty, marries as a teenager. This is a rich, slow read, studded by sudden violence. As my friend Deborah said, appreciatively, “It’s soooo Italian.” When I set it down I thought, yes, I’ll read the next two…in awhile.

Looking for something lighter, I picked up Nick Horny’s Funny Girl. Ah, London in the 1960’s. Barbara Parker flees provincial Blackpool just as she wins the town’s beauty contest. She doesn’t want to be a beauty queen, she wants to be a comedienne, imageslike Lucille Ball. To London she goes, and comedy follows. I loved this book for the world it took me into: Sixties BBC television. Barbara, who’s a bombshell, becomes the starlet Sophie Straw, who plays a provincial young wife in London named…Barbara. Yes, art and life overlap throughout. My favorite Hornby since High Fidelity: tender, funny, smart.

UnknownIn Scottsdale., I opened the only book I’d brought, Kazuo Ishigoro’s The Buried Giant. (I gave up on my loaded-with-books Kindle; I hate the click click click of the “page,” among other things.) I am a fan of Ishiguro, especially his beautifully told and haunting When We Were Orphans. Surely his new one…well, no. Of course I was hopeful, and hanging in there, but 124 pages into it I had to bail. It’s the story of an elderly gnomish couple, Brtions, on a mysterious trek to reunite themselves with their son, whom they do and do not remember. It was all so wet and moldy and faux ancient: I started to feel like I was reading The Hobbit. I’m not alone. The New Yorker’s James Woods wonders — with knights, ogres and dragons– why this read is such a slog.

Slim pickings at the airport shop, but I found Jo Jo Moyes’ One Plus One. She’s the author of Me Before You, a wise and moving love story about a man in his last year of thumb.phplife and the young woman who is paid to care for him. I knew Moyes’ writing would be good and the story interesting. It was both. One Plus One is a sweet comedy about — go figure — insider trading and an unlikely family scraping by in a seaside resort town. Also, a very large and loyal dog. People magazine got it right: “Bridget Jones meets Little Miss Sunshine.” It’s predictable, but I never lost interest, and her characters have stayed with me.

It is a blanket-gray day in Chicago. Spring? I am ever hopeful.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Winter reads

by anneMoore on March 3, 2015

The sky is grey, the ground is white, there’s a warming fire in the living room fireplace. Sure, I like a brisk winter walk, to ice skate, to ski. In Chicago, there are many days too cold to go outside for long. So we turn to books.

9781476731902_custom-6412e9960d203894c2e5676dee4dda0dffdbe58f-s200-c85The S
hort and Tragic Life of Robert Peace: A Brilliant Young Man who Left Newark for the Ivy League, by Jeff Hobbs. Robert Peace is a whip-smart young black man with an imprisoned father and a mother who works long hours to ensure her son’s education. She sends him to a Catholic prep school for boys, where he thrives, winning the school’s top prize, learning to swim, becoming a collegiate water polo player. He has multiple offers from Ivies — but not the money to go, even after scholarships — when a wealthy benefactor steps up and pays his entire Yale tuition. (That act made we weep, on an airplane.)

Always there is the lure of drugs: using and selling. Peace smokes pot to quiet his mind; he sells pot to make a buck. He makes a lot of bucks, and it is that attraction — easyish money — that leads to Peace’s youthful death, at 30.

His is a stunning fall from a lofty place. Peace earned degrees in molecular biophysics and biochemistry; he researched cancer cells working in Yale labs. After graduation, he taught science and coached water polo at his Newark prep school. Most everyone — including this reader — assumed he’d apply to graduate school, or join a company that would pay for his schooling. Instead, he hustles: he tries to flip houses in Newark and other cities, he creates a potent strain of marijuana, he travels. His travel bug is so bad he takes a job with the airlines — on the tarmac, loading luggage — so he can get free “buddy” tickets.

Handsome, charming, a dutiful son and grandson, a solid friend: Peace is likable; it’s hard to let him go.

Bravo to author Jeff Hobbs — a novelist, white, from the suburbs — who installed himself in Newark’s poorest, drug-riddled area to tell the life story of his Yale roommate Robert Peace. This is a magnificent work of nonfiction: a rich, smart, layered read.

imagesThe Transcriptionist, by Amy Rowland. I like to read novels set in New York and this one had the added of allure of its setting, at a large newspaper. Lena Respass is the last transcriptionist at the paper, working alone, away from the newsroom. Reporters call in their stories, she listens and transcribes. Understandably, their words invade her.

Lena is an odd duck. She lives by herself in a boarding house for women on Gramercy Park. (Does such a place still exist?) She has no friends. A reporter woos her, awkwardly. A blind woman she meets briefly on the bus later climbs into the lion’s cage at the Bronx Zoo, to her death. Clumsily, Lena pursues the story of that woman.

I was haunted by this novel even though it didn’t really hang together. The reporters — especially Katheryn Keel — aren’t fully drawn, while Lena is overwrought and precious. This read like a fable, until its unlikely Hollywood ending.

images-2Euphoria, by Lily King. Hooked, page one: It’s the 1930‘s and two anthropologists, Nell and Fen, leave a hostile settlement, she with broken eyeglasses, he pointing out dead babies in the bush. From there the two — loosely based on the life of Margaret Mead and her husband Reo Fortune — meet up with Andrew Bankson, the third in this triangle, based on the British anthropologist Gregory Bateson.

This is historical fiction of high order: I gobbled up Nell’s field work about a matriarchal society in New Guinea and savored the welcoming home she creates within their exotic community. It seemed magical.

There’s trouble: Fen risks his life and that of a tribes man to gain possession of an icon, while Nell takes up with Bankson.

All of Nell’s relationships are smart and sexy: with her husband, the native women, her lover. She is remarkable: a scholar, a best-selling author, an adventurer, a feminist. Did she have to die at sea?

A page-turner for the bookish.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Books: New reads

by anneMoore on February 3, 2015

Boris Fishman’s A Replacement Life is that rare thing: a newly told Holocaust story. (Do we need even one more? If it’s this, a resounding “yes.”)

Aspiring magazine writer Slava Gelman is awakened early on an already hot summer day by his ringing landline, a curiosity. It’s his mother, letting him know that his beloved grandmother “isn’t.”

AReplacementLife-PBWith that, Slava is sucked away from his young adult Midtown life, back into Soviet Brooklyn, where his grandfather lives and now grieves. Pretty quickly, though, grandfather involves Slava in the scheme that informs the book: fabricating the life story of his grandmother, so grandfather can receive German moneys due Holocaust victims.

Grandmother, who escaped the Minsk ghetto, didn’t share her story while she was alive. So Slava interviews others, to create a likely life story. (This is difficult reading.) At the same time, Slava falls in love with co-worker Arianna, also the child of refugees. Theirs is a sweet, sexy romance that opens the book to the intimate pleasures of living in Manhattan, like star gazing in Central Park or lounging at Grant’s Tomb.

There are no secrets in Soviet Brooklyn, and soon Slava is translating and writing the life stories of other survivors. Unlikely friendships blossom: with the aged, with a gypsy-cab driver, and with Vera, a girl Slava grew up with, who has morphed into a woman. “..curves, everywhere curves. Vera’s bookshelves curved. Her lampshades curved. Her fridge would have curved if only the maker obliged.”

Slava’s writing attracts notice by the German official administering the program: will Slava confess? (Is his a crime? Can there ever be just compensation?) Will Arianna forgive his actions and lies?

PreparationEL-750x400One of the things I loved most about this read is Fishman’s rendering of New York City, where there is always someone — typically a stranger — commenting, cajoling, seducing, scolding. Even during a quiet visit to his grandmother’s grave, Slava gets an earful.

Another New York story I liked: Preparation for the Next Life, by Atticus Lish. (Unlike every other reviewer, this will not be a rave.) The novel is the immigrant experience of Zou Lei, a young woman from the provinces of China. Her life is harrowing. She works hard — and works out hard — but is always wary of being deported.

Skinner, an unhinged Army veteran, becomes her lover. Theirs is an odd romance that ends violently. What I loved about Fishman’s New York — the city’s inescapable crush of people, and their opinions — is lacking here. It felt like these two, who suffer or have suffered mightily, are in a bubble, a dystopian New York.

So, what kept me going? His clear writing and the lovers’ fates.

9780345805669Finally, I liked parts of Dinaw Mengestu’s All Our Names, but not the whole. Much of it is set in Africa, focusing on two young men caught up in revolt, during the 1970’s. The rest — the story switches back and forth — is set in a vanilla Midwestern college town.

There an African student named Isaac — one of the activists, but which one? — is housed by an aid group. A social worker falls for Isaac, and begins an affair with him. This should be incendiary, but isn’t: no one works against them, which is odd for the place and time. Their union should be heartbreaking; instead, it’s mostly dull.

Up next: Lily King’s Euphoria (thank you, Cherie.) I’ll let you know.

{ Comments on this entry are closed }