Up on a Mountain

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings.Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn"
 --John Muir

I am lucky enough to have my wonderful boyfriend Joe live just about two hours away from me. Some would say that's still far, but it's much better than being states away! One of the best parts is that we each live somewhere distinctly different. I live in the city, thirty minutes from the beach and Joe lives in the mountains where seasons visit.

Together, we are lucky enough to experience all of it throughout the month when we visit.

This past weekend, I visited Joe at Lake Arrowhead as I often do, but this weekend was simply spectacular.

Friday night consisted of cooking a veggie medley for dinner, filled with mushrooms, squash, zucchini, asparagus and rice (delicious!) topped off with a nice glass of wine, and promptly followed by falling asleep early at 9:30. Quite the Friday night, right? ;)

One of the many things I love about Joe is that he gets out of bed before me, and always has breakfast ready to go! He is thoughtful and kind, and again, I am lucky! Saturday began with toast, mango and Pitch Perfect. After getting up and around we went for a brief walk at the Pinecrest camp, and then took a beautiful walk around Lake Gregory. 

 

A beautiful walk filled with conversation, laughter and sincere thought. It was a lovely afternoon, followed by a fun night with pizza, Planet Earth, and cosmic bowling!

Just when I thought my weekend getaway in the mountains couldn't get any better, it absolutely did.

Sunday morning breakfast topped off with mimosas was fantastic, but nothing will beat our afternoon outing. Joe and I went hiking at The Pinnacles, a beautiful and challenging hike further up into the mountains.

We hiked about 5 miles out and 5 back, hiking about 1,500 feet of elevation gained, finishing at about 7,500ft above sea level. It was tiring but beautiful and rewarding. It felt exhilarating to climb the rocks and get as high as we could--which we did! We climbed and wiggled our way to the highest peak and what we found was stunning.

Continuing a tradition passed along from my mother, and one that many practice, one of the first things Joe and I did was build our altar. 

"Altars symbolize a desire to manifest spiritual connection in our every day life, to bring the sacred into every thought, feeling and action"

We spent a good hour or so at the peak of this mountain, exploring, talking, laughing, kissing, smiling, and standing in awe.

"Most of the time, all you have is the moment, and the imperfect love of the people around you"

--Anne Lamott

When we had our fill, we began our descent. The way back is always easier. So we climbed, scooted, and jogged our way back down the mountain, laughing, panting, and chatting all the way. It was cold and windy, but we didn't mind, we had smiles plastered on our faces. 

This day we saw a new side of each other, childlike joy and playfulness. The beauty of every day discoveries in the one you love.

This day will stand out in my mind forever, because up on a mountain, I looked over at Joe and I knew. 

We both have so much going on in each of our programs, which is amazing. I'm thankful that we've each committed to year long work and programs that resonate with us and our values. There's still many months to go until our programs come to an end, but I cannot deny the peace within me that has come with the knowledge that wherever the next adventure takes us, we'll be going on it together...

God,

I am in awe of the beauty that surrounds me, 

the creation that you have made.

You set all things in motion,

and yet you still have time for me.

Thank you.

Thank you for the challenges you send my way.

Thank you for the joy that fills my heart.

Thank you for your patience and love.

Thank you for the beauty in my life,

thank you for the things that aren't as pretty,

the things that humble me.

Thank you for all the important relationships I have in my life.

Thank you specifically for Joe, and the happiness that we share.

Spirit, Help me to be open to learning.

Help me be patient and thoughtful.

Please grant Joe and I strength and courage

to love each other and love you. 

Help us be open to experiencing you.

Help us to discover the ways we can support and love each other.

Help guide us, 

help us live in a way that reflects our values, 

help us live in a way that is authentic and meaningful.

Thank you for your love, thank you for our love.

Amen.

A Different World

Living in LA has been such an eye opening experience for more reasons than I could count. Steady warm weather and sunshine is one clear benefit, living a half hour from the beach doesn't hurt either. Living with four other girls and sharing a bedroom is new, and working 8-5(or longer) and commuting and hour each way daily is a change too. Those are changes that I expected though, some differences are bigger than I'd ever imagined.

Growing up in Beavercreek, Ohio I had immense privilege. I was already aware of that, but seeing what I see everyday in LA made me feel raw and crawling with unearned, undeserved privilege. This article isn't going to be about my privilege, although that post may come on a later date when I've had more time to adequately formulate words that acknowledge the enormous amount of privilege that I have benefited and continue to benefit from in my life. Instead, I want to share some facts and figures that made my mind stumble, and compare/contrast Los Angeles and my hometown.

This is an image I see daily, and I'm not even close to exaggerating when I say that. Street homeless keep their belongings in carts, which makes it easier for them to move if needed.

254,000 Men, women and children will experience homelessness in LA at some time during the year.

On any given night 82,000 people will be homeless in Los Angeles.
*in Dayton, there are 1,000 people homeless on any given night

12% of the homeless population are families with children.

1 in 3 homeless adults have mental and/or physical disabilities

1 in 4 homeless adults are chronically homeless, meaning that they have disabling conditions and are experiencing long term street homelessness.

I feel that it's important to note that these numbers only include those persons who are 'literally homeless' meaning they are 

1. Sleeping in places not meant for human habitation, including on the street, in parks, along rivers, in backyards, unconverted garages, cars and vans, along freeways or under overpasses, and the like;

2. Sleeping in emergency shelters, safe havens, or transitional housing programs and were homeless upon entry into the program.

These numbers do not reflect other forms of homelessness that I find is prevalent with the clients I work with, such as rotating sleeping on friends or families couches, hopping around to different motels, etc. I would call this transient homelessness, that have no permanent residence, which creates extreme instability.

It may be hard to believe, but this is what I see every day. I have never witnessed so many homeless people in my entire life. I think what really hit me was realizing that they are not just staying in a downtown area, like many of us are accustomed to seeing. I see homeless people every day, outside of my work, living by the highways on my drive to anywhere, in the metro stations, outside of my grocery store, in my neighborhood.

I've always been able to escape it. Most people are able to leave areas of homelessness and return to their homes in their comfortable neighborhoods and they no longer have to see or think about it again for a while. It's like it doesn't happen if you don't see it. But I can't stop seeing it, and I also can't stop the problem of homelessness. It's so much bigger than me, it's bigger than the people living it. And I'm left every day questioning how do we make a change?

Often times Matthew 25:35-40 plays in my mind, and I wish that I could say I follow it. I try hard each day, but I'm not perfect. And then I remember that I have no right to place judgment on others. I am called to serve, we are all called to serve. How are you serving your community? Are we doing all we can? Are we engaging not only in acts, but in conversations that change the way we look at poverty in our country? Are we ready to remove judgment and bias from our being and instead actively work towards a society that sees the dignity of every human being and honors that?

What will it take to for us to lay down our pride and selfish wants and desires to live a life of authenticity, passion, love, and mercy? What will it take for us to be humble?

I wanted to learn more about my neighborhood, so I did a little digging, and what I found was pretty interesting. Firstly, I live in Koreatown which is in central LA. I live with four other girls on the first floor unit of a rectory turned duplex. 

The neighborhood of Koreatown is 4 square miles. My hometown of Beavercreek is about 26 square miles. Get this: my neighborhood holds 3 times more people than my entire hometown. How wild is that? 

Ethnicity is one of the largest differences that I see in front of me every day. It is a huge change for me to be a minority in my neighborhood. 87% of residents in Beavercreek are White, whereas 7.4% of residents in Koreatown are White. 85.7% of Koreatown residents are Hispanic and Asian. In general Koreatown is considered highly diverse for the city of LA, and for the country. 

28% of the residents in my neighborhood fall below the poverty line, 4% of Beavercreek residents fall below the poverty line.

40% of people in my neighborhood did not finish high school and did not earn a GED/equivalent. This is 9.7% of Beavercreek residents.

The median Beavercreek household income is $74,533.00

The median Koreatown household income is $34,136.00

In 2012, Beavercreek had a total of 130 crimes.

Koreatown had a total of 231 crimes in August alone.

I'm not sharing these statistics because I feel unsafe in my neighborhood and wish I was back in Beavercreek. I'm sharing them because if I had never left my hometown, I could easily forget how privileged I am. I don't want to live in a way that chooses to be blind to the struggles of their neighbors. I am choosing to live in a way that reinforces my passion for social justice. I am choosing to live in a way that reminds me every single day that our society is broken and that we need to fix it. If not us, who? If not now, when?

"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me"

What does Simplicity mean to you?

I recently came across this documentary on Netflix called Tiny: A Story About Living Small. The documentary is based on this 30 year old guy who has always wanted to live out in nature, so he bought a plot of land and built a Tiny House on the flat bed of a truck, with no prior building experience. First off, I had never heard of people living in Tiny houses, and the concept was so intriguing to me, the idea of living in a space that is so small and so....simple. And then this Sunday Mother Anna talked about getting rid of the 'clutter', the things that aren't bringing joy into our life, and I thought more about simplicity and what that means to me. 

Simplicity means living in an uncluttered way, both literally and figuratively. You would think it's simple, but it's really not. It means getting rid of stuff, letting go of things that may have meant something to you at one time, or maybe never meant anything to you--they were just taking up space in your life. Simplicity, to me, looks like living within my means. And when my 'means' grow, that doesn't excuse having more stuff--I can still have few things, just nicer more quality things. Simplicity looks modesty; being organized; not dragged down by my literal, emotional or spiritual 'stuff'. Simplicity feels like freedom from all the meaningless things in life that you don't need to carry around with you. Living in a simple way can be liberating in so many different ways. 

I admittedly struggle. I hold onto things that hurt me. I shop way too often. I am so scattered and disorganized, but I am simple. My spirit is simple. I want to love and be loved, that's pretty simple. But I want to exercise more simplicity, I want to practice living simply in all the ways one could live simply. I want to learn how to use simplicity as a reflection of my values, as a way to live out what's actually important to me.

Maybe I'll live in a Tiny house, or something along those lines. Maybe I'll feel ok with not having lots of things, maybe I'll begin to rid my life of the things that don't bring me joy.

Even as I've been writing this, I think how crazy it is to try to live simply when we're really such complicated beings. Or maybe we just like things to be complicated. The world is complicated, this city is complicated, my feelings and thoughts and yearnings are often complicated. Maybe  de-cluttering my life, living in a more simple way, will gradually allow me to address the complications that I run into. Maybe I'll be able to look out into the world, and inward at myself, with a fresh outlook when I work to live in an uncomplicated way.

I wanted to look up what the definition of simplicity is, hoping it would help me find a good way to end this reflection. Here's what I found--Simplicity can be defined as the state, quality or an instance of being simple; freedom from complexity, intricacy or division into parts; absence of luxury, pretentiousness, ornament; freedom from deceit or guile. It is synonyms with sincerity  naturalness, modesty, clarity, integrity, unity. 

To me, simplicity means embodying all that is good and true and just, and living in a way that reflects that. I hope to continue practicing this more throughout the year, and discovering new ways of living simply that I can carry with me into my future, wherever I may go.

Through Hope, Be Bold

One goal I had in mind for myself this year was to experience new and different ways to worship. Now, I realize that this is a very broad goal. I was raised in the Episcopal Church, and have no desire to wander from it, but sometimes I just don’t feel spiritually fed and I think it’s perfectly acceptable to find ways to supplement my spiritual diet with outside resources.

I have attended the same church for my entire life. In all reality, that’s quite an accomplishment—or maybe a hindrance? Who’s to say? One outcome of that has been that I have a great appreciation for that parish, and for the love and community that church has given to me. As I’ve grown into my young adulthood, I’ve come to understand that not one church, or service, is going to fill all of my spiritual needs; I’m ok with that. I love the tradition of the Episcopal service; I find comfort in its consistency. It makes me feel at ease knowing that I can go to just about any Episcopal church on any given Sunday and know what I’m in for—there aren’t many surprises, and I kind of like it that way. And yet, while I love the consistency of the service, I often times feel a lack of connection with the words that I’m saying and singing. I’m not feeling spiritually fed.

I was really looking forward to being a part of a new congregation this year. I thought, “This is LA, I bet Episcopal churches here are super progressive…I’m going to love it!” And then the church I’m partnered with turned out to be so similar to my home parish in Ohio. To me, that confirmed the fact that moving to LA for a year of service wouldn’t result in new experiences being dropped into my lap. If I wanted new experiences, if I wanted to be challenged, I would have to make the choice to do that for myself.

So the other night, I decided to step out of my comfort zone and attend a worship service at a highly contemporary church. I’ve attended worship services in the past that were far more contemporary than that which I was used to, but this took it to a whole new level. The congregation had a lot of diversity, which was great. In typical LA fashion, everyone seemed glamorous…a church filled with beautiful young people. Honestly, it was very odd. The music was too loud and fast paced for my personal liking, it felt a little bit like being at a concert—hands up in the air, feet jumping up and down. There were giant projection screens with song lyrics on them, and live feed of the band playing and the people dancing about. So, there I stood in the pew with my roommate and another young professional woman who was a first timer like me. We stood there in the dark, music jamming, colored lights bouncing around. I felt out of place, and yet I was surrounded by people in my age bracket who were enjoying themselves, and I wondered why I wasn’t….

With music still going in the background, we were called to prayer. It was moving and invigorating, reflecting on Jesus’ last words “it is finished”. The worship leader prayed on the Greek translation which is “the debt is paid”—we prayed and reflected on how profound that really is. It doesn’t say the debt was paid, or will be paid, but is paid. It’s not a ticket you validate once and can’t use again. It is ongoing, it is present tense, it is paid each and every day. It does not expire. My heart was moved.

Another worship leader gave “the message”, and I felt like I was an audience member watching a stand-up comedian as he traveled the stage, using social references and modern language to connect with us, he kept it light hearted but would dig deep into thought when it was appropriate to do so. I almost felt distracted from his message because it was such a different approach to giving a sermon than what I was used to.

Many of his points were thought provoking; a few in particular really resonated with me. In 2 Corinthians, 3:17, Paul shares that “the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom”. What a beautiful thought…With every breath we take, we breathe in the spirit of God that surrounds us. God’s spirit is never absent from us, which means that with God’s presence, we have freedom, freedom from fear, freedom from all that tries to break us. God brings freedom into our lives. A couple verses earlier, in verse 12, Paul talks about hope, “Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold”. The worship leader discussed that hope is a combination of desire and expectation. He said that expectation for something without desire, that’s dread. And desire of something without being realistic about expectations, that’s disillusionment. Having a desire for something, with a realistic expectation of its fruition, that’s hope. And that is what we have through Christ—hope for Christ’s return, hope for our future, hope for today, hope for tomorrow. And because we have that hope we can be bold. What an interesting thought. Because I have true hope, I can be bold. Boldness can enable me to let the spirit guide my life. Boldness can let me be authentic, genuine. Boldness can help me show others in my life how God is changing me. The worship leader made a really powerful statement along the lines of “There are probably people who would want to go to church with you if you showed them what God does for you, how God is changing you”. To pull it all together, I felt that what I took away from the service was that through my hope, I can be bold. And in being bold, I won’t point out the darkness in society but reflect God’s light to others. Through reflecting God’s light, the spirit might surround others, and give them the freedom they have been looking for.

I’m not quite sure that the service was something that I’d want to regularly attend, but maybe it was something I needed that night. Maybe I needed to be reminded of the boldness I possess, of the hope that I carry, of the freedom God’s spirit brings. It gave me the push I needed to continue looking for ways to feed myself spiritually, and to be open to new opportunities. Regardless of the way the message was delivered though, how incredible it is that our God gives us freedom, hope, and boldness. “It is finished”

Feeling Very Blessed

While getting up and around this morning, I was watching a morning talk show on TV. This morning, one of the featured guests was a woman who has been battling cervical cancer for quite some time. Today, it just struck a chord with me. It really clicked, how lucky I was that I had turned out to be cancer free.

I'll share my story from the beginning, because many people still don't know what I went through this spring. While visiting Caldwell in New York during my spring break in February, I didn't feel like myself. I had (seemingly) been gaining weight steadily, and it was noticeable to the point that people were speculating if I was in early pregnancy(!), which was definitely not the case. 

I didn't want to be a Debby-downer during my trip, so I was trying to be as upbeat as possible, but I wasn't feeling great, I just wasn't feeling like myself. Because Caldwell works during the day, I would go out on my own and walk around town, and what I was really noticing was that I had a hard time breathing. Kind of like when you walk up five flights of stairs are feel out of breath, that's how I felt just walking around. 

At first, I thought 'Well, I guess I've gained some weight, and so I must be out of shape, I better work out!'. (In hindsight, probably not the best idea...) I did try to exercise, but all I could muster was doing 15 minutes or so on the bike, and doing a couple free weights. 

The other red flag was that I couldn't hold much food. I was having a great time making extravagant dinners for Caldwell and I but then when we sat down to eat, I could only handle a couple bites and then I'd feel stuffed...I have never felt that way in my life!!!

During my trip, Caldwell and I went up to Montreal for his work. He worked, I shopped and on our last day we went up to the largest hill in the park that overlooked the city. It was cold and snowy, but I was so out of breath getting there that it took us twice as long as it should of. That's when I really began to think that something was wrong with me. Here's a picture of us that day. 

I've left it unedited, so that you can see tucked away under my scarf (which I strategically placed) is my bulging stomach, you  can kind of see where my coat is pulling a little. I knew that there was no possible was that I was pregnant, but there was a little thought it my mind thinking 'Could I be? Am I going to turn out like those women on I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant or something?'. But I just didn't think that could be. I just thought that I was out of shape.

When I returned home, my mom noticed that I had gotten bigger, but also noticed that I wasn't able to take in much food either. At school I was out of breath just walking from the parking lot to my class. I 'Googled' if adults could develop asthma! I had these strange things happening to my body, but none of them added up to anything that I could comprehend.

The best thing that I did in all of this was listening to my body. I knew that I wasn't feeling like myself, that something wasn't right, even if I didn't know what the problem was. I listened to my body and went to the doctor, and thank God I did that.

It was probably a week after getting back from New York that I went in to my doctor's and by that time, I looked like I was about 7 months through a pregnancy. They made me take a urine test as well as a blood test, even though I had been having regular periods, and I knew there was no way I could be pregnant! She felt my stomach and told me that she could feel something in there, and still wasn't convinced that I wasn't pregnant, but after negative test results, she ordered blood work and a cat scan to be done. 

The worst part was that I discovered I have terrible veins--three nurses tried 8 times at the office to draw blood before sending my to have it done at the lab. This was a nightmare to me, as someone who cried the last time I got a shot, which was like 2 years ago haha. 

At this point, I was so miserable. I didn't want to go to class because I was so uncomfortable, and I gladly accepted the fact that I had to miss some classes for doctors appointments. 

My cat scan revealed a large mass in my pelvic area. This led to an appointment a week later with a gynecologist, who was just a formal stepping stone to seeing a specialist, as he had nothing new to share with me, and more blood work. 

Finally, I was scheduled to see Dr. Heather Pulaski, a Gynecologic Oncologist at the Women's Cancer Center at Kettering Hospital. By this time I looked like I was 9 months pregnant, and I was so uncomfortable and miserable that I didn't do much more than lay on the couch and attend a class or two so that I didn't go over my number of allowed missed classes. 

Me, feeling lousy.

Dr. Pulaski shared that I had a tumor, about the size of a volleyball on my ovary. She determined that I would need to have surgery to remove it, which also meant that most likely my ovary would also need to be removed. My blood-work indicated that cancer might be present, but it was just a chance. There was no way of knowing if cancer was truly present until they were in there and could do a biopsy on the tumor after removing it. This meant that the surgery could go as we anticipated, removing the tumor and the ovary it was attached to, but it also meant that it could go another way, if needed. If they found more problems or cancer, I had to prepare for the fact that they would need to do a  full hysterectomy, meaning they would take out all my lady parts.

 For me, all I could think about was having kids, and going to school. This sounds kind of silly, but these are my biggest short term and long term goals. Right now, I want to finish school and down the road I want to have children, and this was effecting both. Already a year behind in school, I couldn't handle the idea that I might not be able to finish the semester, which could set me back another year in my program. I was about to lose it! I was trying to work out anything and everything with my professors that would allow me to finish the semester, but it was still dicey. And then I thought about having children, all I want to be is a mom and have wonderful kids with the man I love and I cried and cried at the thought that that may not be an option anymore.

I was scheduled for surgery a week later, but had to jump through some more hoops first. It turns out that the condition I had causes fluid to gather on your lungs (which caused my breathing troubles). The trouble was that they couldn't put me under if I wasn't breathing well enough on my own, which meant that I needed to have the fluid drained. This process was probably the worst part of the whole experience. The fluid was drained from my back and through my ribs, which was extremely painful, because I wasn't numbed enough. They could only remove a certain amount of fluid at a time, and I had a lot to give! It was determined that I needed to have this procedure done again before my surgery ( much to my dismay). Thankfully, I had a wonderful nurse named Shelly, who held my hand through it and was so sweet and motherly. In all, I had 4 liters of fluid on my lungs, and after 2 drainings, they still weren't able to remove it all. 

I met with  the Cancer Center's educator to help me understand what to expect before, during, and after my surgery. This was comforting to have the day before my surgery. She came to my room and helped my mom, grandma and godmother understand exactly what we were dealing with. 

Looking back, I remember her explaining what it would mean if they found any cancer. She explained how long I would need to do chemo, radiation, all kinds of treatments. She explained what parts would need to be removed and why. I think in the moment, I was trying to be so positive, and headstrong that I didn't really take that all in. All I wanted was to have this thing out of me and to get back to my normal routine. I was so positive and sure that nothing would go wrong that I didn't even let my mind wander there.

My surgeon was so amazing, and so was the entire staff at Kettering Hospital! I never encountered a negative person, they were all smiles and friendly faces. They cared for me, and helped me and prayed with me. I could brag about them forever, they made my stay something to look back on positively.

After watching that show this morning, and having some time after my surgery, I realize how big of a deal this really was. I could have had cancer, and things could have been a lot worse. It still was serious, it's not everyday that a healthy 21 year old has a giant tumor and requires surgery to remove it. I was lucky that they only took one ovary, and left me with everything else.

I was lucky that I was young and recovered well. I stayed home for one full week and started to go back to classes slowly, and was able to finish the semester with good grades. 

It took several weeks to feel like myself again, and finally my appetite came back. I've put some weight back on and look like myself again. But the biggest thing I'm thankful for is my health, and my family. They were so amazing and supportive. The stood by me through the entire experience and stayed positive and encouraging. 

Most of all, I feel blessed that it was benign. I feel blessed that it could have easily been cancer and altered my life, but it wasn't. Now I understand how serious it really was, that it wasn't something to brush off as if it was nothing. It was real and scary and serious, and I was lucky.

What I hope that someone will take away from this is that as women, we know our bodies. That gut feeling you have that something isn't right, or feeling that something is off is important. That's our body's way of telling us "Hey, something's not right here!" Listen to your body, listen to your instincts. Especially young people, we think that we are above it all, that it could never happen to us. Well that's just not true, so be in tune with yourself and your surroundings!

 I am blessed, and I thank my God every day. Amen for that!

Lessons, Ice Cream, Sunshine, Laughter and Love

Welcome to my new Blog! I thought this would be a fun way for my family and friends to keep up with everything I'm doing :) 

Lately, I've been trying to enjoy this beautiful weather as much as possible! This past Sunday, Stephanie, Daisy and I took full advantage of it! We started out by practicing maneuverability in the High School's parking lot. Stephanie needed a little help preparing for her upcoming driving test :)

Unfortunately, we didn't have the cones/poles needed to practice, so we improvised! Camping chairs stood up perfectly and worked just fine! Stephanie was mortified, and however I found it humorous and was proud of our resourcefulness :) I'm sure she'll learn to get over feeling embarrassed about silly stuff eventually! Haha

After about an hour of practicing, primarily the right side, we finally called it a day and got on the road! Daisy was quite the trooper, hanging in the back seat as I coached from the sideline like a soccer-mom and Stephanie had mini panic attacks. 

We then drove on in to Yellow Springs, where we took a short stop to get ice cream! I figured Stephanie deserved a treat after working so hard on her maneuverability! 

The ice cream was perfect for such a beautiful day!

We finally made it over to John Bryan to get some hiking in! Daisy was so patient this whole time and she finally got her reward for being such a good girl, a beautiful hike through the woods :)

Overall, a very successful Sunday afternoon filled with lessons, ice cream, sunshine, laughter and sisterly love (so cheesy I know). Preparing to leave for New York has gotten me so sentimental, and I thoroughly enjoyed spending a lovely afternoon with my sister and Daisy :)