Missing In Action

It’s been a very emotional week for me, not least because my doc has had me cut back on my Oxycontin to half of my previous dose, although I also have 5mg Oxycondone I can take for breakthrough pain.  I’ve done this step-down twice already since ending chemo, and I agree that it’s necessary to reevaluate every now and then to make certain I’m taking the minimum I need.

But I think right now I’m below the minimum amount.

Max & Gerry on a tour of Gustavus Adolphus

I’m exhausted from not sleeping, sleeping’s been difficult because there’s so much pain.  The 5mg doesn’t seem to address the pain as well as the 20mg does (duh) and the extra relief I get from medical marijuana just isn’t cutting it.  It’s been a hard week, and emotionally, I’m feeling very drained and not terribly resilient.

Since visiting my friends last weekend I’ve been missing Gerry like crazy.  I’m sure it was going to place where we’d gone many times, and hearing him talked about with so much love by Myrna and Bob.  Bob said Gerry had one of the best political minds, and humor minds, he met.  That is such a lovely compliment, because I know how much Gerry would have enjoyed it.  He was the funniest man I ever knew.  And he loved politics.

It’s almost as if my mind put off mourning Gerry full out until I got far enough past my “clean” CT Scan so that I had enough ‘worry space’ in my brain to handle it.  There’s only so much one can worry about at one time, right?

After Gerry died in October I was in shock for quite a long time.  Then just when I was beginning to wrap my mind around the fact he wouldn’t be coming home, I was hit with severe sepsis and was put in the ICU until they figured out it was my port that had become infected.  I know I was closer to death during that week than I’d ever been, and to be honest there were times that week when I wanted to say, “Screw it.”

But I couldn’t, because I have two kids, and because I just couldn’t.  For better or for worse my body fought hard, even if my mind and heart weren’t in the battle.

Today Max was walking around “wearing” Kitty Nitro around his neck, looking for all the world like a taller, thinner, MORE bearded version of his dad.

Game Of Alones

.I’ve done a lot of things alone in the past six months, since losing Gerry.

I eat most of my meals alone, in my room, since stairs remain so difficult.  I sleep alone, I am learning to walk again, alone.

Andy is with me quite a bit, but, as a percentage of my days, I see very few folks on a regular basis.

And, of course, I never see the one person I really want to see,
and won’t ever see him again.

I miss Gerry.  It seems painfully obvious to write that, but it’s the strongest thread in this difficult year; I miss Gerry.

I miss walking, I miss good health, I miss the ease of my previous life, I miss cycling, but most of all I miss Gerry.

I miss having someone around who would know, intimately, the pain that I’m feeling in my back (he had several crushed vertebrae from his Myeloma.)

I miss Gerry’s fastidiousness, the house seems shabby and in an odd state of disrepair since he’s been gone.  Andy lacks the time and energy and I am not physically able to keep things as nice as they used to be.

I miss Gerry’s humor, although I swear that I hear his laughter many times throughout the day.  We’d become such a comedy “duo” over our 25 years of marriage that I can almost write his jokes for him, in my mind, when the opportunity arises.

I miss his hugs.  He was small, but strong, and I miss him surprising me with a hug from behind while I’m reading or writing or just sitting outside.

It feels so weird, though, that the times I’ve missed him MOST since his passing have been while watching this final season of Game Of Thrones.

In our modern world, one of the activities that brings couples together is watching a favorite show.  Gerry and I both loved television, unashamedly, but we didn’t agree on every show (of course!)

One show we absolutely loved was The Americans.  We would save up episode and watch them together on Roku, for hours at a time, binging, and we’d love it.

I feel a special note of gratitude to The Americans for closing the show so beautifully,
and doing it in time for Gerry to appreciate the ending.

Game Of Thrones, though, is continuing on, sans Gerry, through it’s last season.

Gerry and I loved GOT.  We loved the plot twists, the bizarre theories, the wild fans and all of the videos.  Gerry especially loved listening to one YouTube channel with amazing theories (most proved correct!) while he was puttering around in the kitchen, his domain.

Sometimes I think I can hear him in there, making a grilled cheese sandwich,
but alas it’s the cat doing something catlike.

I put off watching Game Of Thrones this season until plot reveals on Facebook made me chose between tuning in, or having the season spoiled.  I didn’t want to watch alone, but I didn’t want to watch with anyone else.  So I watched, alone

It’s a good season of GOT, Gerry would have loved it.  I’m loving it.  It seems a lovely farewell to a beloved TV series; I wish I had had time to give Gerry the same kind of farewell.  I still wake up in a cold sweat from dreams about Gerry dying with no one around him but medical staff, no family, no me.  I was functionally immobile from my reaction to strong chemo, but that doesn’t lessen my guilt at not being WITH him at the end.  Just because you know something’s out of your control doesn’t necessarily lessen the guilt.

Neither of the kids are into the show, and I hate to drag Andy into the final season just so I’m not watching alone.  Besides, it’s cathartic in a way that nothing else has been, to watch – and cry – and watch.  Sleep is so much a part of my recovery that I’m usually snoring by 8:30pm, which means I catch up on GOT on Mondays.

I feel less alone watching the show during the day, although in this insanely
dark season I have to close the curtains or I can’t actually SEE anything!

So every Monday during the GOT season here I am, curtains drawn and iPad glowing, weeping, missing Gerry, loving the show, finding a way to deal with widowhood.

Mourning Ritual

A Couple of Irish Laddies

I would never have chosen to lose my husband while I was undergoing high dose chemo that, essentially, had paralyzed me and left me unable to lift my head off of the pillow.

I remember lying on my back, in pain from the tumors in my spine and bald due to the chemo, trying to process that the love of my life was gone; his body was laying in a hospital room in Rochester, MN at the Mayo Clinic, but Gerry was gone.

The responsibilities most widows have were placed in other hands; I was physically unable to plan a memorial service, invite guests, or even make many of the small decisions that are necessary during the mourning period.

Andy (nee Hannah) & Gerry, 1997

Instead, I felt as though I was engaged in my own, personal and singular mourning ritual.

  • My head was shaved
  • I was immobile
  • My interactions were limited to less than half a dozen folks

Fear of infection while I was undergoing chemo kept the number of friends I could see very low.  This sickness-imposed separation from the world would continue for months, during which time I would slowly be able to add a few more folks into my circle of visiting friends.

Gerry at Max’s Bar Mitzvah & at HIS 1972 Bar Mitzvah

I was not compelled to return to a job and hear condolences and stories of other folk’s grief.

I didn’t really have to do ANYTHING but lie on my back, and breath, and take my meds every 8 hours.

I was fortunate to have a strong and loving online community, but being unable to even sit up made it very difficult to post, to have an online conversation, or to connect with friends.

Visiting Colleges with Max

It’s been 5 months since Gerry died, and although it’s not been easy, it is beginning to feel like a natural part of life.

I’m certain that caring for Gerry during his 11 years of Multiple Myeloma, a fearing several times that he was about to lose his battle with that blood cancer, allowed my heart and mind to ‘rehearse’ the situation of Gerry’s death.  Earlier in the year when Gerry had two heart attacks in March due to a drug interaction, I think both of us began to realize that he had limited time.

Gerry & Andy/Hannah at a St. Paul Saints game

I’d thought about Gerry’s death so many times that when it happened I was shocked, but not surprised.

I miss him like crazy.  I joke with him (or my memory of him) many times a day, and Andy and I share stories, it seems, with every picture frame or cup or old medicine bottle we sort through.  I lack the strength to do much of the sorting, so that’s fallen to Andy, which is fine.

Anything of Gerry’s that I need to keep I already have within me; his laughter, his sense of fun, his intelligence, his love.

Gerry and I at dinner

So, in a bizarre way, being compelled into some type of unexpected mourning ritual has made this process easier to get through.  I wouldn’t have chosen to pair CODOXM-Ivar Chemo with the loss of the love of my life, but in an odd way the combined pain and confusion from both incidents blended and made my journey through them a bit simpler, if not easier.

Friends + Andy

I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that without my friends + Andy, I would not be here right now.

From the immediate, jaw-dropping LOVE response when I was first diagnosed through the many small gifties and visits from local friends, to the actual financial donations that have kept our heads above water these past 9 months (thank you, thank you, thank you!) and the ‘cleaning crew’ and ‘cooking crew’ love from members of my knitting group (thank you so much, ladies!) i have no idea what state we would be in right now.

There have been many days when Andy is at their wit’s end.  Andy is essentially dealing with a rather large, middle aged BABY who needs feeding and cleaning and entertaining.  At the same time, Andy has taken over the financial, legal, emotional and other necessary paperwork/office visits surrounding long-time disability and recent widowhood, which would be a huge job for an older person, forget a 22 year old just out of college!

Andy is amazing, but this job is a huge one and there are times it’s been TOO BIG.  Now that my mental state is returning to pre-cancer levels and I can actually REMEMBER when I’ve signed a form, or made a visit to a bank, the nuts and bolts of Andy’s job will be getting easier and easier.

A mind is a terrible thing to lose, I’m glad to be getting my own back.

Caring for a family member with cancer, who is struggling with the residual effects of chemo therapy, is NEVER easy.  The fact that Andy does it with such grace is astounding, and the few times that they lose their temper or feel overwhelmed are more than validated by their hard work during all of the other times.

When Max was home for the holidays he stepped up, but it’s hard to just insert someone into a routine, so of course Andy ended up doing yeoman work all through the holidays.  It did give them a bit of respite, though, and we’re looking forward to that this Summer when Max is home for the entire season.

Because I’m doing so much better, and because Andy is in NEED of a respite, they’ve arranged to go visit some college friends for a week at the end of Feb, and will be bringing one friend home to help them with some projects they’ve started.

Who knew my kid had a skill for laying out a room, organizing a basement or creating a really good flow for a home office.  They’ve also showing some skill with the power tools, which gives me a sense of pride since I’ve always loved me a DeWalt Drill.

We’re lining up folks to come and check in on me / stay with me during Andy’s absence. I think we’re pretty much covered now, and that also warms my heart.  My business partner, Kathleen, has been amazing with her visits, and her ever-ready help for Andy.

  Kathleen will be staying with me for almost a week, during which time we will watch EVERY episode of RuPaul’s Drag Race and Outlander. 

Just try and stop us…

So although I am still light years from where I want to be, I do feel myself getting better every day, and that is almost ENTIRELY due to the hard work of Andy and our friends.  (Of course, the doctors and nurses had something to do with it, I’m speaking pretty much about at-home help…)

I still can’t walk easily, my legs are numb and I almost fall all the time.  Almost.  That’s a very important word.  I don’t get downstairs as often as I’d like due to balance and exhaustion issues, but I do what I can, and I walk around upstairs quite a bit each day.  The more I walk, the better my legs feel!

I cannot WAIT for warmer weather so I can walk outside!!
I don’t like to set time-goals because that can lead to disappointment,
but I’m thinking I may be AT LEAST six months away from any kind of bike joy.
I’ll live with that.  I kind of have to…

And today a few very dear friends are coming over to help us clean the house.  This has been a pretty regular thing, thank heavens, because aside from sweeping up a broken glass that the cats knocked onto the floor, there’s not really a lot that I can do to keep the house clean.

I wouldn’t say I’m a clean-freak, but I DO care whether my house is clean, even though I’m in bed more than I’m OUT of bed each day.  Andy does their best, but keeping the house clean is really the least of what they should be worrying about, so we’re VERY grateful to Ellen and Lisa, who are coming over today, with their mops and rubber gloves.

And me? I’ll be SITTING UP IN A CHAIR in my room.  Andy’s rearranged it so that there’s a rocking chair at the foot of my bed, and I’ve been taking advantage of it by sitting up for an hour or so each day.  Just a month ago I couldn’t sit up for more than 15 minutes – huzzah!!

If this sitting up ability keeps growing, maybe I’ll be able to go to a movie with Andy??  There are several local theaters that have recliners and stadium seating,
maybe that would work? 

I need to feel that my physical strength will stand up to 30 minutes of riding in a car each way and 2 hours of movie, but it would be so nice to see How To Train Your Dragon 3 since it’s a family movie series we both love.

Back In The Hospital

Yesterday I was admitted back for more scheduled chemo, this time a HUGE bag of Metheltrexone (?) was administered after some other chemo drugs, and now I stay at St. John’s for at least 3 days while they monitor me to make certain I’m handing the new chemo well.  THIS is the high-power stuff (40 ml of it) that is the scary part of M=CODEX/Ivac (if I’m writing that correctly…) and I’ve been fearful of it.

Well, now it’s al in, they have me back on fluids (which make me pee like there’s no tomorrow) and I’m back on high dose dexemethesone, too, which has made my blood sugar SOAR up to 500 (I didn’t even know that was possible!) so I’m taking insulin, too.

My entire family has had Type2 Diabetes.  I say, “has had” because my entire blood family – those who haven’t passed from cancer related stuff – has passed from diabetes/heart disease related stuff.  The curse of the hillbilly-high-fat-and-sugar diet, and the curse of living in a cancer cluster (Parkersburg, WV) has taken it’s toll on my family.

I’ve never been thin, but compared to many in my family I’m absolutely svelt.  Right now I’m round as a steroid-pill and bald as Uncle Fester, but when I’m not pumped full of dex I tend to be a bit thinner looking than I am now.

I made the choice when I was 16 to leave the Ohio Valley/WV area and go to college, then to NYC, and not to return.  I knew that living with so much chemical input into the drinking water, so much coal dust in the rivers, and so much deep fried food would play hell with my health, so I chose to live where I could express myself artistically and be the person I always wanted to be – a New Yorker.

I was strongly affected by Television, my first role model was Anne Marie on THAT GIRL!  Later my role model tendencies switched to Rhoda (and I DID work in costuming!) which made it SO ironic when eventually I moved to the Twin Cities.

Am I now channeling my inner Phyllis (post Lars, now…) and will I eventually end up in San Francisco?  Is this part of the blog entirely senseless to those of you born after 1970?  Sorry, childhood role models will remain childhood role models.

I’m not dealing with Gerry’s loss right now.  I’ve made the decision that I will address it in full, with all of the emotions that entails, when I am better able to allow myself to.  I’m not ignoring it, I cry, I’m sad, but I can’t give myself up to the grief and continue with my recovery as I need to.

I hope this doesn’t sound heartless.  It is hard, like missing his memorial service, or not circulating with the dozens of folks who came to the house after the service.  I promised my doc I wouldn’t put myself into close proximity with more than a dozen folks for infection’s sake, and I physically just couldn’t make it to the service. But more to the point, I don’t think, emotionally, I could have extended so much of myself and would have been able to keep the strength I need to get through this chemo, which is so damned hard.

The kids, I’ve been told, did a stellar job.  Max taped it using professional equipment from SPNN, and he’ll be editing it together with some lovely family video that Andy fortuitously had transferred to DVD just a few months ago.  When I have that edit, I’ll post it here so you can all see how amazing my kids are to have put something like that together.  Amazing.

Max will return to college this well, probably while I’m still in the hospital.  It’s been amazing to have him home, exactly what we all needed; a bit of normalcy.  If this current chemo round goes well, I may be starting my FOURTH and FINAL chemo sometime around Nov 12, and then we shall see…

I have no idea, when this whole “cancer” thing is done, whether my body will be as it was before.  I’m getting a growing sense that, like Gerry, I will ALWAYS carry the pain of the tumor in my back and the damage done by it’s growth into two vertebrae.  Will I always be on pain meds to deal with the constant bone & spine pain?  I guess these are things that will be revealed I I continue with my recovery/remission.  Which are lovely words.

Saddest Day of My Life

I’m overwhelmed right now, so I’m going to keep this brief.

The dearest man I ever knew, my husband of 25 years, Gerry Landy, died on Sunday. It wasn’t entirely unexpected; he had been suffering from heart complications since March. Friday and Saturday he was at the Mayo Clinic for his heart, he was admitted on Saturday, and his rapid decline was entirely unexpected.

My own health is very bad right now, I’m dizzy and nauseous every day from the Chemo and can’t sit up or even lay down comfortably. This makes it impossible to answer emails or messages, I know all of you mean well and love us, but I will not be able to correspond with anyone for a while.

We’re still working out the details of a memorial service. As soon as I have better information I will post it here.

Thank you in advance for your thoughts and your love. I know the kids and I will get through this, but right now the path seems very dark especially since I can’t raise my head up.

Far Away Worry

Bike Ride From Home to Hospital

I’m 6 miles from Gerry right now, and I feel 1,000 miles away.  If I could cycle, I’d be home in 31 minutes via the Bruce Vento trail.

Oh, that I could ride my bike again, today.

He visited two days ago, but when he got to my room he was overwhelmed with exhaustion from the walk from the car.

I’m so concerned about his heart condition, he just seems to be dragging, low on energy and hope, and also missing me being at home.  He’s not well, Jasper’s not well (missing me, or something more?) and Andy is left home alone as the care-giver in charge.

…and here I sit, bald and pumped up on chemo drugs, not able to keep down food (except for ice pops and the errant ice cream, which generally ends up being a mistake) and not able to BE THERE for Gerry.  Who needs me mentally almost more than he needs me physically.

My Current View

Why is it so hard for some folks – for men? – to admit that they need help?  Our yard needs mowing, I know that Gerry gets wiped out SO easily.  Last week I utilized Next Door to find someone to mow it, but as soon as I did Gerry insisted that no, HE could CERTAINLY mow the yard.  And so he started mowing.

And he got totally wiped. WIPED.

So Andy picked up the slack.  And I jumped in and did the front yard (which, in retrospect, may NOT have been the best idea I ever had…) and together we got the yard done.

Just like a frontier family.  With a heart condition and two forms of cancer.

The View I Want To See

I hate to think what he’s attempting to do when I’m NOT at home.  Re-shingle the roof?  Find a barn to raise?

I get sprung from here on Sunday. Today is my last chemo of this session, then depending on my labs I’ll be home for two or perhaps three weeks, getting my lab numbers back up (platelets, etc.) and perhaps a transfusion.

I am SO looking forward to being home, which I miss so much.

Which is probably just another way of saying how much I miss Gerry.

Gerry, for pity’s sake, PLEASE take care of yourself when I’m away!

Home Sweet Downsize! Just LOOK at that lawn!

What Doesn’t Kill You…

…makes you STRONGER?

Day 1 of CODEX=M/IVAC chemo, and my body is handling it pretty well.

Todays Chemo Specials!

Of course, the chemo drugs haven’t really been IN my body long enough to cause the brutal side effects they keep telling me I’ll be seeing.  AND the nurses are doing an amazing job of both explaining the prophylactic measures they’re taking to prevent bladder problems, nausea, headaches, dizziness, unexpected bleeding—if it is an undesirable side effect, the chances are it’s part of my chemo journey!

I can be relaxed about this so far because it’s only day one.  We’ll see how happy I am on day 7, when the side effects begin to come into their own.  For now, I’ll enjoy what I can enjoy, not that getting liters and liters of fluids pumped into me all day is terribly ENJOYABLE, but it’s not horrible.

Amusingly, one of the drugs can have neurological side effects that show up when the patient tries to write a sentence, so the nurses had me pick a sentence that I can write over and over through the day to make sure that my brain is working as we all want it to work.

There’s ALWAYS money in the Banana Stand!!

The sentence I chose?  “There’s always money in the banana stand!”  Neither of my nurses had heard of it.  There’s nothing quite like explaining an obscure cable TV joke, entirely out of context.  I probably should have chosen, “NO TOUCHING!” as my sentence.

Today Gerry was down at Mayo meeting with his new cardiologist.  I’m so excited about this, because we’ve put his heart health on the back burner since my own diagnosis, and it’s high time that he got a little attention paid to his health issues.  One of my dear knitter friends volunteered her husband to drive Gerry down, and he seemed happy to do it, so we are VERY excited and VERY grateful to Wilson for ‘volunteering’ to be Gerry’s driver, that was a gift!

Andy was taking care of getting me settled in my 5-day hospital room, so they weren’t available for the drive down.  I ended up needing some stuff from home that I forgot, so it was very good that Andy was nearby.

It feels a little surreal to be back on the same ward that I was in when I was diagnosed, now I have no hair, but still the nurses seem to remember me.  It’s a really lovely group of folks here, I feel like I’m visiting family a little bit!

More Weight

There is an odd heaviness surrounding me right now.  My legs, hips, my arms – everything just feels HEAVY.  As if I’m wearing those velcro-on walking weights, as if there’s been an extra 5 lbs added to every limb.

I don’t know what this new symptom means, but it reinforces that
today is a REST DAY, a sitting in my chair and crocheting day.

Cardiologist
Gerry and Andy are headed down to Mayo (we just can’t get enough of that place…) because FINALLY Gerry’s been assigned a Mayo cardiologist to coordinate his heart condition with his Multiple Myeloma.  We’ve sort of been in a holding pattern as far as HIS chemo goes since March, when he was put on Velcade, and that drug seemed to cause conditions where his two heart attacks (March 15 & 30) happened.

I’ve watched Gerry slowly sinking into a very sad mindset, I know he’s feeling so overwhelmed by weakness, and some days I feel like he’s in danger of just giving up.  When he was getting Cardio Rehab he was doing SO well, every day he was a bit stronger, walking a bit longer, just feeling BETTER!  I want that Gerry back!

Around the time I was diagnosed with my cancer, in late July, Gerry had another heart pain episode. Not a heart attack, just angina (that’s a silly way to phrase it – there is NO “just” with heart pain!)  That really seemed to set him back, and my cancer diagnosis didn’t help matters.

And at the same time, it seemed like he couldn’t get in to see a cardiologist up here through HIS clinic (we have different insurances, different clinics – we’re just weirdos) and  instead of me following up on that (as I normally would…) I was dealing with my own health stuff and he was dealing with it right along with me.

So we’re hopeful that this Mayo trip will be the start of a BETTER care plan for him. We want to be able to coordinate his heart AND his Multiple Myeloma treatments so that the left hand knows what the right hand is doing!

Today is mostly testing, then on Tuesday he returns to have an actual VISIT with the cardiologist.  Andy is run pretty thin between Gerry and myself, so we are SO grateful to a good friend’s husband who has volunteered to be driver for Gerry to get him down to Rochester and back.

I don’t dare send Gerry down alone.  Each time I’ve driven him in the
past few months he’s fast asleep by the time we’re past the city limits,
waking up just as we pull up to Mayo.

I am still Gerry’s caregiver, although not as active as I’ve been in the past. I’m not able to carry as much of the burden as I used to, it’s too heavy in addition to my own healthcare issues.

Oncologist
As I’ve stated before on this blog, I’m not a doctor (I don’t even play one on tv…) and for the most part test results just go over my head.  But apparently some of the testing that was done down at Mayo over the past 2 weeks have yielded results that give my oncologist up here at St. John’s, Dr. N, something to consider.

It seems that the cancer is now in my nervous system, and in* my bone marrow, and that’s not good.  Yesterday, instead of getting the spinal tap I usually get (little did I ever think that the words “usually” and “spinal tap” would be used in a sentence involving my health) I was told to just stay home.

My doctor is ‘regrouping’ and I’ll be seeing someone (Doctor? Nurse Practitioner?) on Monday to discuss the route forward for my treatment. During next week I’ll be getting two different Spinal taps, because I am VERY special.

It would be ironic if, after all of the Mayo drama of the past week, I ended up receiving the same chemo cocktail that Dr. T was proposing, but via a different clinic up here (the University or Park Nicolette)  Maybe ironic isn’t the word.

One thing I know for a fact, though, is that I HATE feeling like something is growing & spreading, and I’m just sitting here having a cup of tea.  The exhaustion I’m feeling is absolutely overwhelming (just when I thought I couldn’t get any MORE tired!) and lifting the tea mug to my mouth takes a Herculean effort.

Everything is heavy these days.

*I was, thankfully, mistaken about this.  I misunderstood something my doctor at Mayo had said, but she just messaged me with clarification.  Yay clarification!

The Places In My Neighborhood

In 2016 we decided to downsize from our lovely home over in the Crocus Hill area of St. Paul to the East Side, by Lake Phalen.

It’s a different neighborhood — slightly less ‘well off’ — but dynamic and beautiful.  It’s an area where folks have lived for generations, and new folks are moving in and starting their own traditions.  We really love it, and love the neighbors we’ve met along the way!

I’m supposed to try to get out and do some walking each day, to keep my strength up and make it easier to transition back to ‘healthy person’ when this cancer thing is over.  For years WALKING has been so terribly difficult for me, it’s one of the reasons I’ve become an avid cyclist. But with my walker, it’s much easier to get around.

Hopefully I won’t be walker-bound forever, but right now it makes life much easier.

So each morning as soon as the sun’s up I get out for a nice walk in the cool of the morning.  Here are some of the sights I see on one of my daily walks:

Big Beautiful Sunflower With A Bee, Down The Block

Hmong Neighbors Mean Nice Pho!

I’m attached to my pump through my port

My Chemo Pump Is My Constant Companion

I LOVE This Tidy Bungalow!

Lovely, Shady House With Happy Fence