Once upon a house...

Once upon a time, a daddy built his girls a dollhouse. It was a very nice dollhouse, solidly built, with 8 rooms and a staircase. It had a front door and a garage door and a nice little patio. The house was lovingly painted in bright colors left over from building the real house.

The dollhouse was played with often and was very happy.



Years went by as the 3 girls grew. 2 more girls were added and all 5 of them had played with this house. The girls painted the house new colors. Some of the floors started to give way but were temporarily replaced with cardboard. They painted it again. And again. The garage door became stuck with layers of paint. The front door was lost and a replacement was stapled in place. Part of the roof came off, and only a hinge was left to remember where it had once been. It was painted again.



More years went by and all of the girls were grown and gone. The house was moved to a storage area and forgotten. For several years the rains came and often soaked things not well protected in storage and the wood of the house swelled with water. It remained there for some time, lonely and forgotten.

Then one day the daddy was cleaning some things from storage and recalled that there was this house on the back porch. He offered it to one of his girls, who snatched it right up.



She took the dollhouse home with fond memories of playtimes past. The poor waterlogged thing was in a very sorry state indeed. Not really knowing how to work with wood or do many things handy she asked the hardware store and they sold her some paint stripper and a scraper. The paint stripper was poured on and she got to work taking away the gum it made but the poor little house wasn't looking much better. All of the water had done a lot of damage and she felt overwhelmed trying to fix it.

So the poor little house went back into the garage and there it stayed again. For 13 years the girl took the house with her everytime she moved. And every time, the house was stuck in some corner of a garage and forgotten again.



The girls had girls of their own but instead of the old fixer upper their dolls recieved move-in ready houses. The dollhouse was again forgotten and sad.



And then, one day, after those 13 long years since someone tried to last fix the house, the girl realized that she now knew a little about how to work with wood and tools. She now had some knowledge of paint. And she pulled the poor little dollhouse out and gave it another go.

Today we began sanding and I think maybe she can be saved. A little sandpaper, a little wood filler and a lot of elbow grease will be needed. But I think we can do it.



Erin said she likes the paint job after the sanding and would like to keep it that way. I think we need to paint it again but that blue if kinda pretty...

Christmas on Valentine's Day?

Okay, well, my family is unconventional. But we all knew that, yes? Due to conflicts in timing this year (the downside of a very large family) it looks like I will be having Christmas with the kids and Eric's family on Christmas day and then Christmas with my sisters and everyone else on Valentine's day. My little sister jokingly combined the names into Valentristmas (though maybe Valentmas is easier to say?). Anyway, so if we do that then I think I need to put up a tree for this but decorate it for Valentine's instead of Christmas and put a big heart on the top of the tree. What do you think?

Here are a couple trees and an ornament I found online for ideas. I think it could work.





Pictures from here, here and here.

Best present EVER

Over at the idea room the question has been posed of what was the best present you ever gave or received. I can think of a few really great gifts but the very best one ever came from my little sister. The picture above came long after the present but the present makes me think of it and vice versa.

When I was in junior high I remembered part of a song but didn't know what it was called or who sang it but it was romantic and beautiful. I wrote down part of the chorus (the part I could remember) on a small piece of notebook paper so I would remember to ask someone later if they recognized it. I wrote down "And it's funny you should happen to walk into my life 'Cause I was just thinking of you". And though my mother and little sister said it sounded familiar, no one recognized it.

Every couple of years I would come across it and try to find the song again. I had done online searches but online didn't cover as much then and the line returned no results and neither did my guess (which turned out to be correct) as to the title. I used the lookup books in the music stores and called radio stations trying to identify it and though the DJs said it sounded familiar they couldn't place it. I could NOT find it. Then, when I was about 25, more than a decade later, my little sister found it. And she gave me a present of the full lyrics to the song and the album it was on. I was so thrilled I was jumping up and down and started crying. I then listened to the song on repeat for about 12 hours.

Though I don't normally post lyrics to songs this one was special to me and so I'll share.

Lari White ~ Just Thinking

I was just thinking
   how nice it would be
To have someone to kiss me good night
I was just thinking
   what I really need
Is someone to hold me real tight

I was just thinking
   of finding somebody I could mean everything to
And it's funny you should happen to walk into my life
'Cause I was just thinking of you

I was just thinking
   of a walk in the rain
Underneath an umbrella for two
I was just thinking
   of the sound of my name
On the lips of a lover so true

I was just thinking
Of a moment of magic that lasts a whole lifetime through
And it's funny you should happen to walk into my life
'Cause I was just thinking of you

I've felt your tender touch in every romance I've read
And I've seen your sweet smile in my dreams
There's a feeling I get, like we've already met
And it's almost too good to believe

I was just thinking
   of a moment of magic
That lasts a whole lifetime through
And it's funny you should happen to walk into my life
'Cause I was just thinking of you

What was your best present ever?

What if your name wasn't your name?

With the passing of my last grandparent recently I've had grandparents on my mind a lot. This man here was my mother's father, Louie Glen. Grandpa was a farmer in Oregon and my mother was raised on that farm. We all spent a lot of time there and one thing we learned is that there is nothing like a potato soup when the potatoes and everything else is fresh picked. Yum. We also learned to look at the back of the lettuce leaf and not just the front when checking for slugs. I think my little sister may still have a little slug stuck in her teeth...

When Grandpa was born his own grandfather had wanted him to be named George Washington since he already had a family tree named after this countries fore fathers (Thomas Jefferson, etc) and also because this baby was born on Independence Day. His mother, however, said no. This baby was to be named Louie Glen and, after what is suspected to have been some argument, he gave in and let it be. Or so she thought.

When my grandpa was getting along in age it occurred to him that he should get a social security card. His mother was still alive and doing so while she was still here would make it a little easier. The paperwork was filled out and sent off but instead of a social security number he received a letter. It said that a baby boy had been born to the people he said are his parents on the day he said he was born. BUT his name was NOT Louie Glen. Upon further investigation he discovered that his grandfather had filled out his birth certificate more than 60 years ago and named him George Washington. All of these years he had been going by this name, raised his children (and given one the middle name of Glen) and run his business and had never known that his name wasn't really his name. Now, because of the business, he had his name legally changed to Louie Glen. My middle child is named for him and my uncle (who passed shortly before Glenn was born) and I think it a little funny that he was named for someone who wasn't really named that for most of his life.

What would you do if you discovered your name wasn't really your name? Would you change it to what you thought it was? Leave it? If you have to change it anyway would you pick something new?

Secret 28: This one time, at church camp...

When I was a junior we moved yet again to my third and final high school. My very last class of the day was band and as I walked into the room one of the girls already there stood up, pointed at my sister (Little-Little) and I, and said "YOU'RE THE BLANKET GIRLS!". Oh... no...

So... That past summer I went to a church camp called Camp Harlow. I'd been going to the week long summer camp every year since I was 5 and I loved it. My sisters took their turns being camp counselors, I still have my first camp t-shirt (and can *just* squeeze into it. it's very stretchy). But that last year went a wee bit differently.

I didn't know most of the girls in my cabin. On the very first day of camp two or three of them went to the bathroom and dyed their hair green. I thought it looked cool but apparently it gave our cabin a reputation and we were more or less shunned. Sad. Oh, well, we had fun anyway.

Every year the camp splits the all of the kids into 4 groups and calls them teams. Each team was supposed to earn points and at the end of the week one of them gets to brag that they "won". Near the end of the week there was to be a talent show, another way to earn points. The group leader had a great sense of humor and thought our idea was perfect. I would just like to say RIGHT HERE that our idea was run by the group leader and APPROVED. We were not renegades, and we followed the rules. AND I learned this in the first place at a church revival. Anyway...

So I get up on the stage in front of the entire camp with a microphone and a blanket and it went something like this:

"Hello! 3 of my cabin mates are outside and I'm going to bring them in one at a time. They don't know what's going to happen yet but I'll explain it to you real quick. I'm going to bring them in one at a time and have them sit them down on the stage and I'll cover them with the blanket. Then I will tell them to take off something they don't need. The idea is that they don't need the blanket and they should take the blanket off, but this could be fun."

The first girl came in and sat down. I put the blanket over her and asked her to take of something she didn't need. She passed out her shoes. I said to her, "you might need your shoes later. Take off something you don't need." She gave me socks. I said, "well, no, you might need those too. Isn't it getting hot under that blanket? Take off something you don't need." She sat there for a minute and then says "Oh!" and takes off the blanket.

The second girl comes in and sits down. She is covered with the blanket and I say "take off something you don't need". Over the next couple attempts she gave me shoes, earrings, a bracelet, and a couple other bits and then, like the first girl, took off the blanket.

"Now", I said to the crowd, "the next girl is my sister, and I love her, but she's not too bright. This should be fun." So she comes in and sits down and is covered with the blanket. I say to her "take off something you don't need". After a few minutes I've taken hair barrettes, shoes, socks, a watch, etc. "No, you don't understand. These are all things you might need. Isn't it hot under the blanket? Take off something you don't need." There's a lot of shuffling around and a few gasps from the crowd as it's obvious she's taking off her pants. As she passes them out to me I giggle and say "but you probably need these. Take off something you DON'T NEED." There's a muffled cry so I hold the microphone closer and she wails "I don't have much that I don't need!"

"Sis, there is something you don't need. Take off something you DON'T NEED. Aren't you hot under that blanket?" She starts moving around again under the blanket and passes out her shirt. At this point the camp leaders (church camp, remember?) are having a fit and demanding that the girl controlling the curtain close it. But she says "No! I want to know how this turns out!" and the show goes on. As this is happening my sister passes out the bra. And then panties.

I look out at the crowd, who is now on the edge of every seat, and say "Oh, sis... What you didn't need was the blanket." And I, very dramatically if I do say so myself, ripped the blanket off of her. As I do this every girl in the audience leans back in horror covering her mouth and says "Oh!" and every guy in the audience leans forward expectantly and says "Oh!...". And then my sister stood up, fully clothed, and took a bow. She grabbed the microphone and says "And you all thought I was naked!" and bounced off the stage. She had worn two sets of clothes in the first place. Did I forget to mention that?

Anyway, the camp leaders told my older sister Little-Big, who had previously been a counselor, that "your sisters are nothing like you" and did not invite us back the following year. And I started my last high school with a reputation right from the gate...

Secret 25: I was at Mt Saint Helens

In 1980, when Mt. Saint Helens erupted, I was there. And I was almost too close.

My parents were scenic photographers (one still is) and they were taking pictures of the smoke. I was there with my parents and siblings. I was just over a year old and my little sister was 8 days old. At the time we had one of those pop-up trailers, the ones you could tow behind a car, and it had no real heating in it. Because my little sis was just a wee thing my mother decided we should go to a hotel for the night so everyone would be warm enough.

In the morning, at about 8:30, the volcano erupted with a massive earthquake (5.1) and caved in part of the mountain and caused volcanic mud flows. Ash flew hundreds of miles and covered everything. And the campsite that we had been staying at was gone.

My sister says I owe her my life. Guess I do.

The photo is from here.

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Before they do the time, make SURE they did the crime.

So I mentioned in the first Rules from Mom that sometimes she had those moments where it was clear she wasn't perfect, moments where I learned what not to do. A clear point of this is the moment of the chocolate chips.

We loved chocolate chips. And we stole the bags from the pantry ALL the time. But we lived in the sticks so hiding the bags was problematic. If you put the bags in the trash then mom will surely find them and you're busted. But if you hide them anywhere in the house then you are equally screwed. So my oldest sisters, then around 10 and 11 years old, got creative. They hid the bag under the mattress of the next sister, middle-middle (who was about 5). Then if it was found, THEY weren't going to be in trouble! Brilliant, yes? Um...

Not long after this my mother was looking for something that had gone missing. It was more serious and completely unrelated to the chocolate chips so let's just say that it was 2am and she was in a VERY bad mood. And she was tossing bedrooms, ALL of them. She came to middle-middle's room and lifted the mattress and there was the chocolate chip bag. It was obvious, in a 2am haze, that of course she had done the crime and therefore must bear the punishment.

So the next day, still angry, my mother sat down middle-middle with a bowl filled with 2 pounds of chocolate chips and a trash can. If she wanted chocolate chips, she was going to get chocolate chips. And she's not getting up till it's done (hence the trash can)... It didn't come out until that very first Confession Christmas what had really happened, more than 20 years after the incident. Middle-middle still doesn't like chocolate chip cookies to this day, more than 30 years later.

Now that I have my own kids, before I punish them, I make sure that they're guilty. Circumstantial isn't enough.

Other lessons learned

Secret 9: Did you get a good look? Need another?

All of my sisters are pretty crafty. Some of them can sew, some can draw, paint, refinish a table, etc. When I was in middle school, 7th grade I think, my sister Middle-Middle made clothes for my younger sister and I. She made pants and shorts and a few other things. Unfortunately, the seams on the pants didn't hold together real well and the back seam on the shorts tore open when I sat down on the couch. I changed and left them in the back of the closet so I could fix them later.

Fast forward about 6 months. I woke up one morning to realize my alarm had not gone off. The school bus was going to be there in less than 5 minutes and I had a VERY long driveway. If I were to miss the bus the school is about 10 miles away down a busy highway so walking to school was out. I HAD to catch that bus. I threw on some clothes, grabbed my backpack and shoes and started running. Hair combing and putting on shoes could be done on the bus and I needed to hurry.

I got there just in time! I got onto the bus and headed to the back to sit down and catch my breath. The bus driver looked in her rear view and called me back up to the front of the bus. She had me lean over and whispered in my ear that my pants were torn in the back. In my hurry I had grabbed the torn purple shorts from the closet and forgotten about the rip. WHY she bothered to whisper I will NEVER know. As I had walked to the back she had seen the shorts and, I can only assume, wanted to be discrete in telling me but (or butt?) when she had me walk back to the front of the bus to tell me the rest of the bus saw what only she had thus far. I went to a little school where K-12 all went and we only had 4 buses total for all grades. So 1/4 of the student population across 6 towns saw my underwear...

Luckily I had my gym shorts in my backpack and could put them on over the other shorts. Between those and my red face I was able to cover up.

Secret 5: The uproar over my name

This is the woman I was named for. She was a suffragette and a poet. At the time of my birth my parents thought I should be named for a family member. There was a great-grandmother on my mother's side and a great-great-grandmother on my father's side named Sara. My great-great-grandfather, also in the picture, was a historical figure in Oregon whose name is recognized by many people today and it seemed appropriate that I should be named for his wife. After the naming of me it came out that Sara was not actually his wife, however, as his first wife had never granted him a divorce. After the ink was dry on the birth certificate it became known that I was named after his mistress. Some accounts that I find online of his life call her his second wife and say they were married in the 1930s after the first wife had died. However in the text of an interview with Sara after his death she says that she told her mother that they were married in Europe to keep from upsetting her (and says this was probably the only lie she ever told) and other people just assumed that they were but she never mentions actually getting married... I'm still googling for more on that in any event as there is a specific date mentioned.

Anyway, several family members were extremely upset at my being named after his mistress and when my little sister was born a year later they named her after the actual wife's daughter for her first name and for her middle name she was named for a prominent family member still living. It drove my mother a little crazy because to of all of us sisters she had given names that didn't have shorter nicknames (she never liked being called by a nickname and wanted to make sure we didn't have one) and now Little-Little's first and middle names could both be shortened (and starting in high school she went only by the nickname).

I used to tell my mother that all of the trouble I got into in high school wasn't my fault. I was just highly spirited like my namesake and what did she expect? Though truly I was highly spirited, I think, because I am my mother's daughter.

Secret 4: Confession Christmas

When I was a sophomore in high school one of my older sisters got brave and told mom the truth about something that happened a long time ago. After that it all started spilling out and all of us were confessing things my mother never knew about (at least where the statute of limitations had passed, anyway, which seems to be roughly 10 years). My mother sat stunned, finally laughed, and said "I see. Okay, as long as we're telling the truth here... what happened to my gold watch with the marquee diamonds in it?" It got very quiet and then my oldest sister, Big-Big, said "oh, yeah... okay, well, [Little-Big] and I were playing pirates... and, uh, we needed a buried treasure...". It turns out that when they were little they had buried the watch in the sand box out back (the sand box on a hill) and that winter the bottom board broke off and the sand box was washed away in the storms. The watch was never found and is still somewhere on the butte despite attempts with a metal detector to locate it.

Ever since that year, whenever we get together at Christmas, we tell mom a few more things. Recently it came out what ACTUALLY caused that hole in my blanket when I was in high school. I was a sophomore and my friends and I had gone to the beach near our house for a bonfire. I got in trouble for smoking because of the small hole in my blanket that I had taken with me and I tried to tell mom that someone else was smoking (since I don't smoke). She didn't believe me and I got in trouble. However, I decided the punishment might be worse for the truth and let it go.

The truth is that this was shortly after the 4th of July. We had a ton of fireworks left over and had been setting them off for hours. We got bored with that and someone, I couldn't say who exactly, had the brilliant idea to throw everything that was left into the bonfire. I had my blanket wrapped around me and moved away, quickly, as flames started shooting out in every direction. Among the stuff thrown in there were bottle rockets that had become random missles and I was hit in the back, burning a hole in my blanket. There might also have been alcohol at that beach but who can be sure? I will say that IF there was, then not having any mixers except Mountain Dew would have been punishment enough for that part of it (seriously have you ever mixed MD with Jim Beam? Shudder...).

Separate but the same

My little sister and I are 15 months apart, yet I would swear we were twins by how connected we are. Sometimes when I call her she answers the phone by yelling "Stop that!" because she was just putting her hand on her phone to call me at that moment and when it started ringing I scared the crap out of her. Yesterday she came home with the fixings to make lasagna but I had just put one in the oven even though neither of us mentioned to the other a desire to make it (and I haven't made one in over a year). Today we are wearing almost identical shirts. They are a different color but the same style and, again, I haven't worn this in quite a while.

Oh, I know! Perhaps we were the same person in a past life? Hmm, yeah, that might be tricky to work out...

Lost and found

Dear Sister,

I found your cat last night.

Love,
Big-Little

PS. Your cat was lost.



On Monday night we realized that our loud little kitty (given to me by my sister, middle-middle, a few years ago) had not made an appearance in the last 24 hours. We thought she might have gotten outside but she is a serious homebody. If she is on the front step sunning herself and you go NEAR the door she will dart back in. But last night I still hadn't found her under a couch or meowing from a closet so I started canvasing the neighborhood. It turns out that a very kind neighbor on the next street up has been feeding her because he knew she must have a family since she was so fat well-loved looking. The poor spoiled kitty is so used to being inside that, still being outside by his trash cans, she looked pretty miserable. Our happy little reunion consisted of her tucking into my arm and purring to say she missed me too.

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

This woman and I go way back. A little more than 30 years. This is my mother. Growing up I had some serious hero worship going on here. Not because she was perfect (she's not) but because even though she wasn't she *tried*. My parents divorced when I was 7 and I was mostly raised by mom, mostly as a single mom, so you can imagine that things were a little fly by the seat of our pants at times. But we always landed on our feet. She taught me to adapt. She taught me to stand back up. She taught me to try again and go on.

Many of the lessons my mother taught me I didn't even realize I'd learned until I had my own kids. Some of them were lessons in what not to do (that part about not being perfect, remember?). But all of them were valuable. So I will share these morsels of life with the rest of you. Every now and then I'll add a lesson or two from The Survival Guide as I learned it.

Life By Mom's Rules: A Survival Guide

Always mark the easter eggs. That way you know when the kids find one of LAST years eggs that was missed the first time around.

I was so proud of all of my eggs and I was very angry that my mother took the pretty blue one away that I found on the trailer hitch. Even though she really saved me from something bad I found it incredibly unfair.

Style is relative. Are you happy? Then that's what matters and don't let anyone tell you different. Of course, you may have to develop a thick skin to be happy. This applies to more than clothes but the lesson started there.

When in second grade I decided to dress myself. I had a plaid shirt, a pink fluffy skirt with white polka dots, snow boots, etc. I was Stylin'! So I went out to the kitchen where mom and Mackey (my mom's best friend, also known as Other Mother) were having their morning coffee. I said "How do I look?" And without missing a beat my mother replied "Fine. If you're going to a blind school." Thanks mom. Thanks for that...

Don't wake up Middle-Middle. She'll punch you in her sleep. So will Big-Big for that matter. And me too... You know what? Don't wake up any female in our family prematurely unless you are bleeding or dying... Otherwise you will be if you know what I mean. In fact, that was pretty much my mom's rule verbatim. I recall voluntarily waking my mother up twice. After being bitten by a bat in second grade and after being hit by a car in the tenth. In both cases the first words out of my mouth were "Mom, I'm bleeding..." It had to be that extreme because nobody likes to wake dragons.

Ow! My butt!

I've spent the weekend in Oregon getting my dose of sister time. This weekend in particular was Little-Little's 29th birthday (remember, the one I swallowed pennies with? She's the hottie all the way on the right side of the picture) so Sunday was mostly all about her. We went roller skating and to bingo and then we talked her into seeing the new Star Trek movie.

Let me just say that the last time I went roller skating was this same sister's 10th or 11th birthday. So, no, I'm not good at it. In fact, ouch! I have muscles hurting that I didn't know I had but do you know what's even worse? Where it hurts. My butt from falling and my upper arms from windmilling while trying not to fall. Ah well... still fun.

The rest of the weekend was spent shopping at the Saturday Market and walking in the park and sitting around the counter in the kitchen talking. Now I'm home and I can't wait for them to come visit in July!

Cameras and harvest festivals

When I was little my parents were both scenic photographers. We had a house in Oregon but we spent a lot of time at Harvest Festivals and other shows where my parents sold their photographs and even more time on the road while they were taking those photographs. By the time I was 6 I'd been to half of the states in the US. When I was around 5 years old my parents gave me my first camera. It was made by Fisher-Price and Kodak and used 110 film. Of course I was always begging for more film and for them to have my film processed. And for more flashes since it had a top flash that plugged in (right below where it says Fisher-Price) that was good for about 10 flashes. I'm so glad I'll be able to give my kids digital cameras as it will probably save me hundreds.

I think they gave me the camera so I'd stop complaining about how long they took while they were photographing. Places like the Grand Canyon get boring pretty quick when you stand in one spot for hours "waiting for the right light".

Harvest Festivals were fun, though. My parents had a booth for their photos and they couldn't have all 6 kids hanging around since there had to be room for the customers so we were usually kicked out. My little sister Lee and I were often sent off together with instructions not to seperate. I remember doing this when we were as young as 4 and 5. If we were lucky we might even get sent off with a dollar or two to spend on popcorn or something. If we were less lucky we might get 10 pennies each which didn't buy anything, though penny swallowing contests were pretty entertaining. As in, which one of us could swallow more. Yup, we really did that. My personal best was 6. Did you know that stomach acid makes very shiny pennies?

Lee and I would wander around for hours at look at booths and watch the entertainers. This was especially fun at Christmas with singers like Elmo and Patsy (Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer) performing. Sometimes we'd find odd jobs at another booth and earn a dollar to spend elsewhere. A lot of people at the shows became like extended family that we saw over and over at all of the shows. At the end of the shows when the booths were being broken up and taken down the kids ran all over trying to find treasures (discards and broken stuff) left behind before the other kids found it.

Another artist that spent a lot of time at the craft shows was Judy Bergsma. We had a print of hers hanging in my mother's house that said "There are two things we can give our children. One is roots, the other wings." Everyday of my childhood, at least once a day, I read that phrase and I believe it became ingrained in my subconcious. My other favorite is a refrigerator magnet I have by her that says "Some days the dragon wins."

I'm Big-Little

I'm one of 6 kids. I have a half brother (who's 17 years older than me) and 4 sisters (who are 11, 10 and 7 years older and 1 year younger). My mother often got the names of the girls all mixed up so she'd end up calling you by everyone else's name (and the dog's) before she got to you. So when she was mad at me it sounded something like "Lorie..Heidi..Sharie...Lisa...Nike...Sara!" So to help keep it straight she nicknamed us by age. We were the Big-Big, Little-Big, Middle-Middle, Big-Little, and Little-Little. I, being the older of the two "little" ones, am the Big-Little. For brevity we are also called BB, LB, MM, BL, and LL. Mom used to joke that wouldn't it be funny to put our names on t-shirts but my oldest sister, being, um, well endowed, refused to wear a shirt that said Big-Big and my younger sister who was less blessed at the time didn't want to wear a shirt saying anything like Little-Little. I wonder how my shirt would have been interpreted? Hmmm...

I think it's pretty funny that I'm the Big-Little and I live in Reno, the "Biggest Little City". Haha!

Below is what I imagine the shirts would look like. I threw in my Aquarius symbol for fun. Maybe I'll do something like this for Christmas... Want to try your own t-shirt design out? I just did a quick google search for custom shirt and I made this image at the website below.



http://www.customizedgirl.com/modifydesign/639c3fea8954d9bcae0ca45a625da175_908980