Dawn Treader

I am slowly working my way all the way through the Chronicles of Narnia. Haven't read them since I was 10 or so.

The creation story was stunning, and I don't think I actually read The Magician's Nephew until I was an adult. The crucifixion tale chilling and magnificent. Love those mice. The fall from grace and the dull inhumanity alluded to in Prince Caspian had me nodding my head.

Now I've reached The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I always find Eustace's dragon skin sloughing to be highly resonant. Was just tonight trying to figure out if the quest through the unknown islands to find the seven lost knights is tied to the seven deadly sins. There's definitely greed and envy, pride and a little wrath, but then there's despair. Despair should really be one of the seven deadlies, don't you think?

And who's Lucy in these books? She is completely steadfast. She saves their butts over and over again with a lot of faith at exactly the right moment. The more I think about the books, the more is revealed. Like a shiny little puzzle box.

Reepicheep is about to leap into his coracle...!

Librarian by Day, Fairy by Night

...Veggie Fairy, that is.

I worked all day, and then had exactly 1 hour to come up with a costume for the City Park Halloween Dance tonight.

I attempted Sherlock Holmes, but no hat. I attempted Hercule Poirot, but no eyebrow pencil. At one desperate moment, I was all dressed in green and I said to Jimbo, "That's it. I'm going as a zucchini," and he shot me down with a disapproving look. But it's a process, right? So from walking zucchini, I moved on to Veggie Fairy. As in that person who sneaks up to your house in the Fall and leaves a pile of zucchini and tomatoes on your back porch, and then runs away.

Green clothes. Diaphanous green sparkly veil. Basket full of paper vegetables to give away. In 10 minutes flat, I was outfitted, and it got the husbandly nod of approval.

Whew. Another one down.

I had it easy a few years ago when Martha Stewart was in prison. All I needed for my costume was a striped jailbird shirt with a prison number taped to the pocket.

Other years, fate doesn't throw something so readily into your lap.

Squirrels Should Know Better

Last night we thought the laptop had given up the ghost forever. With two years of family photos on it, not backed up. Squirrels should know better.

Today, Jimbo got it working somehow, and we're back up! Now we need to find some back-up discs in this renovation mess, so we can save those photos.

**********

Sprout and I were on our own for supper tonight, so we ventured forth on a bus adventure. I think kids should take the city transit bus often, so that they know how to do it when they are grown up. And the bus is fun!! You can sit at the front, you can sit at the back, you can sit sideways, there are people to watch, there are bells and lights and signs. We took the bus over the bridge and had burgers at the Broadway Cafe.

Nothing like a little bus adventure to build up an appetite.

***********

We have baby fish in our aquarium, and yesterday they were two weeks old. (There are only two of them, because I think the rest got eaten while we were working on that first day.) We scooped them out the day they were born and put them in a little segregation tank, which is why the frogs and other fish have not yet eaten them. The two babies are fraternal fish twins, not identical. One is already twice the size of the other, and the bigger one is grey while the petite is orange.

I can't figure out when to let them loose into the bigger tank. They still look like snacks to me, so perhaps in another two weeks or so, they will be ready to tackle the wild kingdom.

*************

Today I had one of those days at work where you actually get a bunch of niggly little jobs done and over with. It was very nice. Now if I had three of those in a row, my office would be shiny like new. Fat chance of that happening.

Next week we've got a new staff member starting a job with us, which means I return to training and orientation mode. Lucky for me, I'm getting pretty good at training and orientation mode, so it shouldn't hurt too badly.

**************

This squirrel is in hibernation mode - bring on the nine hours of sleep! zzzzzzzzzzzzz.....

Stories in the Bar!

Last night was the fourth annual 'Stories in the Bar' event. It's stories, or storytime, for adults in a pub - complete with beer.

Ms. J. and I came up with this brainchild a few years back, as a way to celebrate Saskatchewan Library Week in a wild and whacky way. And it's gaining a following. Last night, there were tables full of library staff, and tables full of book-loving patrons, and we discovered even a table full of library tech. students. Ah yes, library tech. students! That's why they could answer all the book trivia questions better than any other table.

Stories in the Bar is a mix of library staff performing and community people performing. It's very weird. First there will be a picture book - yes, a picture book! Adults secretly love having picture books read to them. Then the whole bar will be doing a finger play together! Then lofty poetry will be recited. Then a song might happen. It's very small-town talent show at moments, and very gritty urban at other points. Ms. J. has been our MC for all four years, and weaves everything together with her improv comedienne skills (librarian by day, improv star by night).

I think I have the best time of anybody at these events. It's all the geeky things I love gathered together. And there's beer! Squirrels in their element.

Plumbin'

We got da plumbin' woes. Woes at our house.

Yesterday morning the tub wouldn't drain quickly and the toilet started 'bubbling'. Yeah, bubbling. If it was alive, it would have been glugging or gargling.

I had to go off to a workshop. When I checked on the fambly later, Jimbo had the toilet pulled off and was thinking new wax ring. Later that progressed to a need for Drano, and then a need for a Roto Rooter guy to clean out the toilet drain.

Mr. Roto Rooter came late last night, he snaked the drain, and the toilet went back on. Now, every time we flush, both sinks in the house start to glug. There is something really weird and wrong going on.

Now we're waiting until a plumber doesn't cost a million dollars (i.e. waiting for the weekend to be over), to see if we need the stack to be cleaned out or if it's tree roots downunda. Or something else we haven't thought of.

Tiptoeing around, flushing with our fingers crossed. A little tense around here. I suppose it's good to be reminded how good we've got it most days.

Was talking to a taxi driver yesterday about plumbing woes, and he told me he took his Canadian daughter back to Africa for a visit, and she didn't know how to go to the bathroom without a flush toilet. There was no way she'd pee in the bushes. He had to drive her to a flush toilet before she would go. We had a good laugh together about that.

Happy flushing, readers.

Decrepit

I have just realized that I can't confidently spell 'decrepit'. Does this ever happen to you, when a word looks completely wrong written down? It happened to me once with 'does'. Because 'does' doesn't sound like 'does' when you say it, right? I completely blanked.

Anyway, Google sez that the Squirrel duz know how to spell 'decrepit'. Thank goodness for that.

I am feeling decrepit this week. Let me count the ways. (This would be the boo-hoo pity blog, popular among squirrels who are looking for the blogging easy out.)(The Pity Party, as Aunt Frieda would say.)

Monday. My new boots gave me a giant blister, and I have literally been wearing slippers (very beautiful slippers, but still, slippers) all this week. Monday, the blister was so big that I wore my slippers on the bus instead of attempting to walk the 12 minutes to work.

Tuesday. Tuesday, I ate so many cookies (am temporarily the quality control cookie taster at the Library, while I get the cookies we give out at programs up to my standard) that I had to stay home for a few hours Wednesday until my tummy stopped aching.

Wednesday. Wednesday I drywalled the ceiling with my head angled sideways long enough to give myself a seized muscle bump on one shoulderblade and a headache. Obviously didn't drink enough Mountain Dew (my sister says drywallers all drink Mountain Dew.)(Who can say why.)

Thursday. Thursday I got a cold and actually didn't make it all the way through the new play at Persephone. Needed to lie down, and so we snuck out at the intermission.

Friday. Almost started to cry because my favourite bike shop is not open, and they have my bike until I can pick it up when they're open. Don't cry very often. Concluded that my sniffles were making me whingy.

Hey, how do you spell 'whingy/whingey' anyway?

Retro Blogging - Why Squirrels?

Today, someone I've met recently suggested that I dig deep into the squirrel archive and explain why. Why squirrels? Why library squirrels?

(Is it okay to do blog re-runs? You must tell me if you are offended by recycling. I promise not to do it every day.)

Why squirrels? Squirrels are smart and silly and have hot little tempers. Squirrels are alarmingly similar to librarians. Squirrels like to have their smarts with coffee.

Chip chip chrrrrr.

Happy Saskatchewan Library Week!

In honour of Saskatchewan Library Week, some Saskatchewanity.

If you could hear me singing this rodentia intelligentsia favourite, it would go like this:

Gopher up the telephone pole,
Can you tell me why-y?
Gopher up the pole,
He said, "I'm learning how to fly!"

CHORUS:
Oh, gopher in the sky,
Come down here and tell me why,
Come down here where you belong,
Down below the ground, down below the ground.

Gopher up the telephone pole,
Can you tell me how-ow?
Gopher up the pole,
He said, "I'm gonna fly right now!"

[Sing with me!]
Oh, gopher in the sky,
Come down here and tell me why,
Come down here where you belong,
Down below the ground, down below the ground.

Happy Library Week, Sask Squirrels. Damn, now I gotta figure out who wrote that genius song. Can't remember.

I've Got the Giggles

Today I was having a funny conversation with a guy about "Fridays at Two". "Fridays at Two" is an armchair travel program, mostly attended by seniors.

I once had a reference question over the phone from someone that went like this:

She: "What day is Fridays at Two on?"

I: "Um, Friday..."

She: "And what time does it start?"

I: "Um, it starts at two o'clock."

That happened years ago and it still gives me the giggles. I love people. They are endlessly charming.

How?

How do people blog every single day? I am just exhausted at the end of the day. Every night I got nothing to say. But here goes.

I think parenting really kicks me in the ass. It really doesn't come naturally for me. I find it such hard work.

Tonight, I took Sprout to a Provincial Election Forum at the Library, because I thought he might find it an interesting experience. He was very well behaved, as kids go in kid-boring meetings, and he could quote whole sections of the forum afterwards, so he must have been listening quite closely. I couldn't be prouder of Sprout; he's a smarty, and he pays attention.

Until he gets home.

Then I can talk until I'm blue in the face, and he still won't have his pajamas on or his teeth brushed. If I didn't have to try so hard to get someone short to do the things required to move through life successfully, I think I would be a much happier parent.

But that's what a significant portion of parenting is: nagging and moral compass-reading. Hence my quandary.

Perhaps a beer would help. Yes. Mama's little helper.

Garcon?

Mud and Tape

I'm completely immersed in taping and mudding the new renovation. Stay tuned for details.

A Nut Story

So, Sprout is still allergic to peanuts. This spring, he was occasionally complaining that kiwi makes his throat hurt, and pineapple makes his throat hurt, and shrimp makes his throat hurt, and that certain type of lasagna makes his throat hurt... So we thought why not get him tested for those things.

He's not allergic to fruit at all, but indeed he is allergic to shrimp. So no shellfish for Bobo.

While we were with the allergist, he suggested that we do a blood test where they test Sprout's blood against all the common nuts. The new thinking is that you test versus all the nuts, and then if you discover that he's not at all allergic to almonds, we could buy them in the shell, crack them at home, and cook/bake with them at home. This sounded like a good idea to us. Information is good, right?

So we got Sprout's blood tested, and were optimistic. In fact, when the results came back, it turns out that he is allergic to all the nuts! He is least allergic to peanuts, and more allergic to all tree nuts! It was such a surprise. All the nut reactions in this test come back in percentages, and someone without an allergy has either a 0.7% or 0.07% reaction to nuts (I can't remember exactly). Sprout is allergic to peanuts at 3%, walnuts at 40%, almonds at 28%, etc, etc. Hazelnuts came in at a whopping 100+%.

We are - no surprise here - not eating nuts at home...

What was so funny about this situation was our (the grown-ups) own reactions to the news. We both freaked out about the 100+%, and walked around completely anxious for three days afterward. It was the same feeling you have when you're with your allergic child in emergency. Only this time, nothing had happened to him. He was completely fine. We were just 'loaded for bear' against all those hazelnuts out there in the world.

I'm glad we did the test. Information is always good - now we know for sure what the issues are. It was just such a surprise.

And here's an unrelated nut story: have you noticed how bread and butter with bananas cut on top tastes weirdly like a peanut-butter-and-banana sandwich? Very strange indeed.

Who Are You?

Maybe I need some love! Who's reading this blog anyway, and what do you like about it. Obviously, I need some help here.

Or you'll get 'Words that Rhyme with Floor" next.

Words That Rhyme with 'Tree'

I have promised to blog every day and I have no licorice. There is an imbalance in the world.

I got nothin. Again.

Words that rhyme with tree:

me, ski, Karachi, Habachi, thee, Cree,
lee, free, frisbee,
teehee,
Glee, glee, potpourri,
he, she, we, knee,
flee, congee, be
bee

Treadmill Magic

When I was 20, my roommate and I started flossing late at night while watching 'Magnum P.I.' re-runs on T.V. I decided to floss one night, and it was so ridiculous that she said, "I'm going to floss too." Flossing with Magnum became a daily joke for quite a while. Then we did it in earnest.

I have been flossing ever since. True story. And the minute I started flossing, I stopped - for the first time in my life - getting cavities, and subsequently, fillings. Eureka. The grand discovery.

The cause and effect of this has become an innate truth for me, and I value flossing highly. (Who says that, "I value flossing highly"?)

And then there's the treadmill. If I walk for 20 minutes at a good pace on my treadmill for two nights in a row, I wake up on the third day with no pain in my feet. Eureka. This again is a clear 'cause and effect' situation. Who doesn't want to have happy feet?

And yet somehow I can't make it a habit. You'd think that I could squeeze in 20 minutes of treadmill every day. It's a battle of wills. Me against me.

Now all this being said, purchasing a treadmill has been a really good decision for me. I used to get gym memberships that I didn't use, and join aerobics/yoga/aquafit classes that I never went to, and I even jogged on the fabulous Saskatoon riverbank a few times (a. few. times.). With a treadmill in my living space, I can theoretically step onto it at any moment of the day or night. And this has meant that I've never quit doing it for more than three weeks at a time, since I bought it in 2007. That's pretty good, considering it's me.

Crappy T.V. shows help. Sometimes we set up the T.V. in front of the treadmill, and I can walk and watch trash and time flies by.

Perhaps I should rent some Magnum P.I. DVDs from the Library. Perhaps he's the catalyst. The squirrel tamer. My very own Richard Simmonds.

Blawg

Only by the force of extreme will am I blogging tonight. If I am going to make this a habit again, something has got to shift.

I think it's Facebook's fault. Once you've plumbed the depths of Facebook, and have absorbed all the chirping from all your peeps, where are the fresh brain cells to be had?

There's something to this. Yes. Perhaps I need to blog first, and then catch up on the 'news' later. Hmm.

My life, generally, is very elemental these days. Tonight, after work, we ate supper and then took Sprout to his swimming lesson. I love pools. I've spent a lot of time in my life in pools. They are safe, happy places for me. They make me drowsy. When we go with Sprout, we sit on the floor near the pool, with our backs against the wall. I had a nice daydreamy snooze tonight, with my feet up on the wall and my hand on Jimbo's knee, listening to the sounds of kids and water.

Soon after we got home, everybody else snogged off. So I've tidied my e-mail inbox, read the whole tide of Facebook news, shopped for jobs and houses and campervans online (compulsive browser), stared at my unused treadmill speculatively, watched the new baby fish in the aquarium repeatedly (we've segregated them this time, so they might actually live), and eaten more red licorice than is ever a good idea.

Tomorrow I go to a special care home to read to a group of seniors. They like happy, interesting stories, and I always need to bring an armload of jokes. The worse the joke, the better. Here's one I found in a seniors' newspaper yesterday (paraphrased):

"I have headaches and foot aches. I've got arthritis here, and heart palpitations there. There are cataracts in my eyes, I'm hard of hearing, and I snore like a freight train. I've suffered from dementia. My hands shake and my ears ring. I don't remember if I'm 85 or 86. It's tough getting old. Thank goodness I've still got my Saskatchewan driver's licence."

Hard to top that.

Health Conditions

If I weren't hosting all the consumer health programs that I go to, I'd start to worry about being a hypochondriac.

Last year it was the all-day arthritis forum. The year before that, it was a presentation on Alzheimer's Disease. This month alone, I've been to a brain program, a walking-poles-for-falls-prevention program, and today osteoporosis and bone health. (Not to mention the funeral pre-planning workshop last week.) I'm tuned in, boy howdy.

Today I learned that bone breaks down and regenerates your whole life. All the bone cells in your body are replaced every X years (sorry, the host's mind wandered for a split second right then, during the presentation). Weird, huh? Which is, of course, why you can build bone with good nutrition and exercise at any point in your life. Somehow I always thought that you built bone until you stopped getting taller, and then you stopped building bone. Myth!!!, as the health nurses like to say.

The funniest thing about hosting all these health programs is that they always say the same four things. Eat well. Get lots of sleep. Exercise. Laugh and socialize. They say this for arthritis. They say this for brain health. They say this for bone health. They say this for depression. Not rocket science.

You'd think I'd be running for the treadmill daily, with this sort of repeated insider information. Hey, guess what - I'm going to bed.

Cheap Blogging Trick - Show Them Your Tattoo

Since I promised to blog everyday, and since I already blew it yesterday, I am looking for an easy way to be successful tonight. I'm going for the cheap trick. Here's my first tattoo, which I got a month ago, at the hand of the highly skilled Jeremy Riley from Tattoo Union.



I learned with great interest that there is a whole sub-group of tattoos which are called "functional tattoos", and I have high hopes that never again will I have to bring a tattered scrap of paper to the grocery store.

Another functional tattoo that I like is the "Hello, My Name Is..." sticker tattooed on one's chest. In case you ever want to meet people at the nudist colony, or find success at naked toastmasters. (I did not get that tattoo myself.)

I'm big into experiential learning these days. Getting a tattoo was a really cool thing to go through, with the weird disinfectants, the tiny adjustable armrest, the decal, the shop talk, and whatnot.

You could call it a mid-life crisis, getting a tattoo at my age, but I don't think so. It's just... handy.

Rats

Rats, I've blown the blog-everyday-for-a-month already. Forgot to blog yesterday. Slap on the paw for me.

Flannery O'Connor Scares the Crap Out of Me

Flannery O'Connor is such a good writer. Some people say that she was the best short story writer ever, in the English language.

I know that every time I sit down with a book of her stories, though, I'm afraid to open it.

The first time I read one of her stories was a few years ago. I think it was "A Good Man is Hard to Find", and it started so nice. Family in the car, and Grandma is kind of a handful. At some point, Grandma acts like a childish ass, and this small tiny act snowballs, before you know it, (spoiler) into everybody being murdered horrifically. Completely terrifying.

So my first experience with this magnificent writer, and she goes all "Monkey's Paw" on me.

I still read her stories, because they are magnificent. But now I go in with my extra layer of protection on.

Today, I was reading her stories by the pool at the leisure centre as Sprout went down the giant inflatable waterslide over and over and over and over. Just to add a little extra anxiety to the situation of watching my firstborn swim in the deep end.

Too Many Cookies

I ate too many cookies today.

My department at the Library has just taken over an armchair travel seniors' program that a different department used to host. This program always comes with coffee, cookies, and socializing afterwards. Last week someone complained that she didn't like the cookies.

So what's a squirrel to do? I went down to the coffee room and tasted all the cookies. Some were dull. Some were good. Some needed tasting twice...

A squirrel's job is hard sometimes.

Aquarium

I'm having a writer's block moment... So I'll fill with filler.

Hey, did you know that I have an aquarium full of fish? It all started when Sprout said that he wanted a pet. Now, his Auntie is allergic to all animals with fur, so that takes everything but fish and reptiles off the list. He, of course, wanted a snake.

Let me say that it will be a mighty cold day before a live snake lives in my house. I'm a squirrel. You can see how we might not get along too well.

So I said, "Hey, it's your first pet. I need to know that you'll take care of it. Let's start with some fish." So he and his daddy went off to the pet store, and came home with a giant honking fish tank. Rocks, statues, filter, heater, light, you name it. And one fish.

We enjoyed the fish, but the tank was so big. So then we got two cute and tiny water frogs. And then we got a school of tetras. And then we got a swordtail, who then needed a mate for total fish fulfillment. Then came the snail to keep the tank tidy, and some live plants to liven things up. Zebrafish are so very pretty and lithe like pickerel, and mollies have a certain kind of charm. The harlequins are regal, and the pink skirted whatsits look a lot like Dora from 'Nemo'. It's a microcosm, and I love it. And then there were the babies!! The swordtails had babies, which were so very cute and impossibly small.

My memories of fish when I was a kid are all tinged with tragedy. An empty tank and one spotted fish floating upside down. Terrible scenes, created by my inept fishkeeping hand. And this tank has also had its share of sadness and bad decisionmaking. We won't talk about what happened to the babies, for example. But for the most part, the whole experience is stunning.

At our house, we call it 'Frog TV'. You can sit down to take a look, and 20 minutes will pass happily.

It will not surprise you that my young child does not often remember to take care of his fish. But it doesn't matter, because I think I've adopted them all. And now I'm never to be trusted alone in the fish store.

Yay, Balloon!

If you work in the Library, and you are known to like squirrels, and you have a birthday, and you leave your office for five minutes to get a drink of water, you might come back to this:

There he was, just filling the space. Isn't he beautiful?

Squirrel is Sleepy

It's my birthday today - and I had a lovely day - but now I'm sleepy.

My birthdays get simpler and simpler every year. Today I found joy in the small things: talking to old friends I ran into, finally washing the bug guts off my car before winter sets in, teasing my son about the size of his bison burger at dinner in relation to the size of his mouth, treating myself to store-bought lunch AND dinner, wearing sparkly costume jewelry. At breakfast, Jimbo and Sprout put a candle in a mango for me, and sang Happy Birthday. At work, a France-french woman who comes to see me - with reference questions, but sometimes simply to tell me how she did recently at boules - gave me kisses on both cheeks when she heard which day it was.

It was a very nice, simple day.

Now, all that being said, I am once again instituting Birthday Week, which stretches the revelries in both directions. In my near future, there will still have to be shopping, and waffle breakfast, and sleeping in, and some serious goofing off.

Tomorrow I could tell you about the convent. Or about my new tattoo. But I can't tell you about the hairy hug, which is a story that should never be written down (bad karma).

I Love Bounty Bars

In my family, we regularly say "I love you more than a thousand salmon" and "I love you to the moon and back" and "I love you a google." So the other night, in this vein, I said to my husband, "I love you more than I love Bounty Bars."

"I didn't know you even liked Bounty Bars," he said.

"I LOVE Bounty Bars!" I replied. "In fact, the restaurant next door to the Library has them sometimes, and when I'm having a bad day I run next door looking specifically for a Bounty Bar, because Bounty Bars always make me feel better. Actually, they had a bunch of Bounty Bars next door once, and actually I've never seen them there again, but I keep looking.....I suppose I could walk a block and get a Bounty Bar when I really need one, from the pharmacy, but I never do..."

"Okay." he says. "You're telling me that you love me more than a chocolate bar that you can't bother to walk a block out of your way to get?"

"Um," I said. "I love you a lot," I said.

Road Trips are Exhausting Me

Today, I took my fourth road trip in five weeks, and they're wiping me out. Aunt Frieda gave herself food poisoning and ended up in the hospital for weeks on end. She is finally better, and today we drove her home. I'm glad she's better, and glad she's home. 'Nuf said.

I used to love road trips. The open road. Big adventure. And somehow now all the stats are piling up on me: I read the newspaper every day, and every day there's a vehicle accident with injuries or casualties out there on those Saskatchewan roads. Despite the fact that, logically, I know there are thousands of cars that make it to their destination safely, I worry. Every time I head out on the highway, I'm convinced that there's a moose or a deer or a reckless driver with my name on it (or him).

Whew. Home again, and very happy about it. I guess I'll tell you about Bounty Bars tomorrow. I know it's a tease, sorry.

Frankenblog

It... lives....!!!

I miss blogging, but don't seem to do it anymore. I have decided to bring Library Squirrel back to life for the whole month of October, in hopes that it becomes a habit. For those of you who haven't heard from me for two years, let me set the stage.

I still work at the Library. Sometimes the bureaucracy grinds me down (= squirrel rage), but I still believe that down on the front lines we are still doing awesome things for people.

My son, Sprout, is growing like a weed, and is currently most interested in climbing trees, jumping in leaf piles, wants a multi-fangled pocket knife, and spends a lot of time trying to convince me to let him drink Pepsi.

We are again renovating our house - big windows, and more insulation, because of course we still live in the frozen north.

Aunt Frieda is pushing all my buttons, but occasionally acts her age and reminds me that even the most formidable person you ever met can have moments of childlike frailty.

I am doing stained glass as a hobby on and off, and am dabbling in doing commissions. I currently have a commissioned piece in the basement that's almost done and somehow I've hit the wall and can't finish it. It's driving me crazy, but some of my friends would say that this is simply my pattern and when the pressure is high enough, I will spring into action.

I love people. People make me belly-laugh every day.

I waste a lot of time on Facebook, and am attempting to leaven that sloth with reading classic novels. Right now I am reading the whole Narnia series (I love C. S. Lewis), and the roaring creation story in 'The Magician's Nephew' is stuck in my brain. Very compelling.

Squirrels still think they're very smart, but like to be smart with a latte, discussing the matters of the day at tiny neighbourhood cafes.

Tomorrow I will tell you about Bounty Bars.