Nursing “fashion”

February 17, 2012 in complaining, Fashion, Nursing by txmere | No comments

I am not the entrepreneurial sort. I admire and respect those who are, but I require the safety and security of a corporate job. I scraped by in a different industry when I was younger and I have no desire to return to that standard of living.

That said, I completely understand women who start companies (like Timi & Leslie) out of sheer necessity. As many products as there out there that cater to expecting and new moms, a LOT of them leave much to be desired.

Women have commented to me about how maternity fashion has come such a long way since the days when my mother was pregnant with me. And it has. You can find classic work-appropriate basics, fashion-forward fun pieces, or evening gowns without too much effort now.

But nursing clothing? Totally different story. Basically you can choose from three categories*:

  • So-called “crossover” maternity clothes, whose designers apparently assume you are still the same size and shape as when you were 40 weeks pregnant–they are therefore tent-like.
  • Appropriate for nursing but completely frumpy, shapeless, boring, and only available in two or three colors.
  • Cute and functional for nursing but awfully low-cut. You’d need a camisole to get away with it at work, and doesn’t that defeat the purpose of wearing something you can easily pump in?

* These are the affordable choices. Obviously you can find a lot more options that are expensive, but I wasn’t spending $80 on a shirt before I became the head of a household; I’m sure as hell not doing it now. (I declined someone offering to buy me $30 leggings when I was pregnant because I knew Old Navy had them for $10. Why spend more money for the same product if you don’t have to?)

If I knew anything at all about fashion design, I could easily see myself churning out a few cute tops and dresses with the features I so rarely find. They’d have to be affordable, though, because women in this country apparently don’t nurse as long as in other places and no one wants to spend money on something she’ll only wear twice. (Le sigh–I have such cute maternity clothes that befell this fate because of the circumstances.)

But I don’t, so I’ll just keep complaining on the internet.

Post-partum bodies are jerks

February 13, 2012 in Uncategorized by txmere | No comments

… in the following ways:

1. Nursing cramps. Seriously, it’s been 25 weeks. I don’t think my uterus is going to get any smaller. Knock it off.

2. Mommy-ears. You would think by now that evolution would help sleep-deprived mothers out and develop some kind of brain wiring to correctly differentiate “OMG I’M STARVING FEED ME RIGHT NOW” from “Waaaaaaaah… eh, never mind; I’m just starting a new sleep cycle.” Either way we wake up. But in the case of the second one, we then stare at the ceiling for however long afterward.

3. Night sweats. I talked about this before. Hormones are sometimes teh suck.

4. Hair loss. I just had to go down two sizes in ponytail holders. I now use the normal size and not the extra-large gigantors. My stylist says to expect this for at least a year before it stabilizes. I still have lots of hair and in no danger of bald spots, but I gotta clean out my drain more often.

5. Hand paresthesia. I’m tired of my hands falling asleep so often. One friend said this was likely due to the pre-eclampsia and that, for her, it lasted for months. So maybe not all new moms have this.

There are other things too, but this is where we delve into the TMI stuff…

Five months

January 24, 2012 in Babies, Moms, parents, Preemie-parenting by txmere | No comments

Today, you–my beautiful boy–are five months old. On one hand, that’s hard to believe. Time has flown. On the other hand, it’s difficult to remember what life was like without you. Your arrival was, as you know, surprising, chaotic, and dramatic; it was also the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Let’s just make that very clear right now.

You have more than tripled in size since the day we brought you home from the hospital. You’re six times heavier than you were at birth. I still catch myself handling you very gingerly–the way we did when you were in the NICU and we didn’t want to hurt you! (Unfortunately I did accidentally bonk your head while putting you on the scale at the pediatrician’s office during your first visit back in September. You cried, but only for a minute.)

You still retain the cool, laid-back attitude you had in the hospital. The little girl in the adjacent pod was pretty unhappy most of the time and I worried that you might pull a bait-and-switch on me, but the nurses said no, you were clearly not going to be high-strung. You don’t cry or fuss without good reason. It doesn’t take much to elicit one of your megawatt smiles: a funny face, a song, a smile from someone else, or just a Tuesday. You also laugh quite a bit, so I try to ham it up as much as possible. You’ve been lauded for all the times that you were so calm that people weren’t aware that you were in the room.

YOU HAVE STUFF TO SAY. Lots of stuff. To encourage this, I try to narrate what’s going on as you look around and take it all in. I explained why it was hard to root for the Ravens or the Texans as you gazed intently at the TV. I told you how much your late grandmother loved Pat Head Summitt. I wanted to take the picture shown here, so I sang one of our little songs to get your attention–when I said your name, you stopped looking at my iPhone and looked right at me. Chronologically you aren’t supposed to recognize your name when someone says it until around your first birthday. But I know you’ve never been interested in other people’s timetables.

You nap a lot less during the day than when you were first home. There’s too much to look at and too many people to charm, so you want to be part of it. When you do get sleepy, you’ll try to fight it if you can, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve to convince you to do otherwise. You’re almost too big for the bassinet on your pack & play downstairs, so you nap in your swing or, if you’re at Mrs. D’s, your car seat. If we’re lucky and I can sit for a while, my favorite place for you to nap is resting against my right shoulder. (I love feeling your breath against my skin.)

You sleep in your crib for about half the night, but you still get hungry and want to nurse, so you come in my room at some point. You’re going a little longer between feedings–sometimes as much as four hours, but even more on occasion when you’ve had a bottle.

You have a lot of fans, both on the internet and in real life. Your demeanor and cuteness cause people to fight over who gets to hold you first. Friends and family who are far away are able to watch you grow via pictures we upload to your site.

I stare at you a lot, whether you’re awake or asleep. A lot. I stare at the shape of your upper lip, at the vein that runs down the left side of your forehead (just like mine), at your blue eyes. When I’m at work and I miss you, I take a few minutes every day to study pictures of you. I’m seeing the shape of your face start to become more pronounced–more like that of a boy’s instead of a baby’s.

I worry some too. I worry about trimming your fingernails and toenails, though I have to do so at least three times a week so you have less of a chance of scratching yourself. I worry about the best way to clean your ears, giving you enough tummy time for you to build up your strength to roll over, or that you’re too hot or too cold. (Usually hot.)

But you know what? All that worry is unnecessary. You are a big, strong boy. You are very healthy, against all odds, and are happy. I am so incredibly proud of you and feel so lucky to be your mommy.

I love you, baby.

(And remember, “as long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.”)

Bearhat Babbler

Another wine column

December 26, 2011 in Media, Tennessee, TN wine legislation, Wine by txmere | No comments

I recently spoke with Gail Kerr about the inconvenience of having to go to a different store to buy wine rather than being able to buy it when and where I buy my food. Here are my unabridged thoughts on the subject.

Why are you a supporter of Red, White and Food?

RWF was established to give a voice to the consumer. In recent years, similar grass-roots campaigns have proven to be vital change agents, and I don’t think it’s any secret that change is needed—and overdue—here in Tennessee. Many of our residents have relocated here from other states and are surprised, bemused, and eventually annoyed that they can’t buy a bottle of wine along with other dinner ingredients in their local grocery store. Even those of us who haven’t lived in areas that allow for this have traveled enough to be able to appreciate the convenience of such “luxury.” In addition, we are able to witness in these other communities how grocery stores and specialty liquor stores somehow manage to peacefully coexist. Red, White & Food allows members of the general public to communicate their ideas to legislators just as loudly and insistently as the liquor lobby has over the years. At the end of the day, informed dialogue is always useful.

Do you find it especially inconvenient this time of year to have to make an extra stop for your holiday dinners and festivities?

Like most consumers of any product, I enjoy having options. If I want a special bottle of wine for a gift or to pair with a particular course, I have favorite wine retailers upon whom I can rely for wide selections and/or recommendations. On the other hand, sometimes I just need something with which to make spaghetti sauce or sangria. It doesn’t need to be anything special and, if I lived in another state, I could grab a $9 bottle on the next aisle at Kroger or Publix. It’s always a hassle to get in the car and drive to another location. It wastes time and gas and adds extra stress to the everyday running of errands.

But here we are at the holidays, when everything is more stressful. We have less time, less disposable income, and we encounter bigger crowds in shopping centers. The inconvenience factor has now increased exponentially. I’m something of a procrastinator, so I this year left my Thanksgiving shopping for that Wednesday before. Of course the stores were mobbed, but getting to and from a liquor store near my office added an extra hour to my commute, not counting time spent looking for parking, waiting in line, etc. That’s an hour I would prefer to have spent at home with my family, obviously.

The other reason multiple stops create a major inconvenience for me is because I have a newborn. It’s something of a production whenever he accompanies me on errands, not to mention that I want to minimize his exposure to lots of people when we’re right in the thick of flu and RSV season. Going to the store for essentials has turned into more of a complex process, as any new parent would attest, and these days I critically evaluate whether an extra stop is really worth it. Many times I now skip that extra stop. So if the prevailing wisdom of liquor store owners is that grocery stores being able to sell wine would result in a huge drop in their business, well, they’re already seeing a decrease from me by default.

I am grateful that I can have wine shipped to my home now if I want—though I’d much prefer my dollars stay close to home.

The organization is going to try a different tactic with this coming legislature. Instead of changing state law, they are going to seek legislation that would allow cities and counties to hold referendums on wine in grocery stores. Is that something you would vote for?

What’s positive about going the route of local referendums as opposed to wholesale change in state laws is that it gives a community a choice in the matter and protects its politicians from having to make decisions that, while appeasing their constituents, are potentially unpopular with some of their largest campaign contributors. While the state laws governing beer, liquor, and accoutrements are archaic and in desperate need of overhaul for the benefit of consumers AND proprietors, this tactic may very well be a good compromise. Of course, this would have no effect on communities that don’t already have liquor stores, but it could really benefit those that do, particularly rural areas where residents have to drive further to have access to any kind of retail.

Yes, this is a measure I would vote for. My town inexplicably decided all liquor stores should be required to sit within a certain number of feet from Main Street. My closest grocery store is roughly two-and-a-half miles from Main Street, so if such a referendum were to pass there, it would certainly help local businesses and their customers. On a larger scale, it would enhance the desirability of these communities for development by retailers who currently choose not to do business there. (I’ve often said Trader Joe’s or Fresh Market would make a killing in that county.) Finally, such a move would bring pricing more in line with that of other states.

If I were able to wave a magic wand and right the wrongs of Prohibition-era laws, I would. Until Amazon is able to ship me that wand (tax-free still, right?), I’d settle for this.

Things no one told me

December 9, 2011 in Babies, Preemie-parenting by txmere | 1 comment

  1. Your fingertips may be intermittently numb for months. Your hands might also go to sleep for no reason.
  2. You need an arm cushion for your infant carrier.
  3. Don’t look at infant growth charts.
  4. Chenille socks won’t stay on your baby, so don’t bother buying them unless for yourself.
  5. Don’t get too attached to baby outfits; they’ll be ruined or outgrown too soon.
  6. Night sweats aren’t just during menopause.
  7. You may still get dizzy even though you just ate 30 minutes ago.
  8. Preeclampsia headaches and protein in urine can still happen for months postpartum, so try to buy life insurance before, not after.

Neonatal tenure

November 22, 2011 in Babies, NICU by txmere | No comments

My son was in Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for just under five weeks. Having been born at 29 weeks 5 days, he was allowed to go home just after he got to 34 weeks, gestational age.

NICU is an interesting place. There’s almost a fraternity of parents whose children are in that unit and you become supporters, cheerleaders, and confidantes in many cases. It’s a solemn place but there are also pockets of joy and laughter echoing through there. The nurses are caring and sympathetic and really seemed invested in my son’s progress.

Despite his early debut, he did very, very well. He steadily gained weight, progressed beyond various machines, and showed off his attitude. He loved to cuddle when we were allowed to hold him. He hated having his diaper changed and did not keep that a secret. He had this tiny, soft cry on the occasions he deemed necessary to use it.

I did not get to hold him immediately after he was born. I did not get to hold him until five days later, just as I got discharged from the hospital. On the recovery floor, nearly all the women had their babies in the room with them most of the time. The first time I even touched him was through a plastic box. I felt cheated out of these bonding opportunities, even though I knew it was best for him. I knew I was blessed by a really easy (even to the point of escaping notice) pregnancy but it didn’t seem fair that I had to have such a difficult time mothering my brand-new baby in those first few days.

The one thing I knew I could do was express milk for him. I’d heard women talk about how they sort of hated pumping–that it was uncomfortable, impersonal, or a hassle. But in the absence of “normal” postpartum rituals, it was an important responsibility for me. Even though the circumstances of his arrival weren’t optimal and I had a c-section pretty early, I was blessed by ample supply. The nurses always seemed impressed when I brought bag after bag of milk for them–they started what ended up to be a sizable stash in the NICU freezer.

Every day, his doctors reiterated how well he was doing, so really at no point did I seriously worry about his health and condition. Every time he gained an ounce was cause for celebration, especially since certain weight benchmarks meant his daddy and I could have more access to him. In the beginning, once his umbilical IV came out (which happened at 5 days, when we were able to hold him for the first time), we could hold him for 15 minutes per day. They explained that kangaroo care was important for the development of premature babies, so we took turns doing that. When he surpassed 3 lbs 8 oz, we could kangaroo twice a day and no longer had to take turns–we each got an opportunity every day. Occasionally he would be assigned a particularly sweet nurse who would conveniently “forget” about us for a few minutes, so we got more than the usual 15.

During these moments, my bitterness about not being able to bond evaporated. The unit is laid out in such a way that each baby’s family is afforded a lot of privacy and quiet. I wanted the time we spent together in that glider to last forever, and every day I looked forward to getting to do that as much as I wanted when he came home.

The other thing that kept me from feeling too sorry for myself–you see a lot of heartbreaking things in there. In honoring other people’s privacy, I tried to avoid looking at the other babies too much, but there were some REALLY tiny ones hooked up to tons of life-sustaining equipment. There were also some really young parents in there and I wondered what kind of support system they had on the outside.

We had none of those problems. My tiny baby was and still is clearly a fighter, and from the near-constant stream of visitors to his bedside, was always destined to be fiercely loved. In the face of the stark contrast between us and other families, it was impossible to feel anything less than eminently blessed.

And now my whole world has changed

November 16, 2011 in Babies, growing up, Moms by txmere | 1 comment

Where to start? I guess we’ll pick up where I picked up on it–entirely too late.

I found out in early August that I was expecting. On the day that I learned, this, I was nearly 26 weeks along. But how could you not know? you may ask. Vicki Iovine opined that you’d have to be a complete moron not to know. How could you possibly misinterpret the morning sickness, dizziness, weight gain, fatigue, cravings, smell aversions, frequent peeing, and missed periods? (I read Mamapundit, ok? Even if I’d had ptyalism, I would’ve been tipped off to something.)

Suppose you don’t have any of those. If you’ve been on extremely effective birth control for over ten years and you don’t get periods anyway, in the absence of classic pregnancy symptoms, how would YOU know?

I’m a reasonable, intelligent woman. I take care of myself. I see my doctor regularly. My provider had actually required that I take a test prior to my January injection. (It was negative, and I’d had two shots since then, so believe me, I figured there was no chance.)

But then my dad came over to help me touch up some paint outside my house. We worked outside all day; that evening my feet and ankles were swollen. Like, really swollen. It wasn’t normal. I was about to make an appointment with a doctor for some GI issues that had cropped up recently, so in case s/he asked, I figured I’d just take a home test to rule it out. By now, you know the result.

My regular GYN was on maternity leave at that point so I got a referral to a different one. (This OB, it turns out, had just delivered my GYN’s baby.) I was so concerned for his well-being that my whole body shook the entire time I was on the ultrasound table. I hope the nurse knew enough of my story that she didn’t think I was nuts. Despite having had no prenatal care for seven months, my baby was healthy. Though still shell-shocked, I was extremely relieved.

I began telling people my news. (So did others–hear me now and believe me later: this is not news you should deliver for someone else.) I began taking prenatal vitamins, looking for and borrowing clothes for the last three months of pregnancy, and drinking tons of water. After Vicki had initially pissed me off, I picked up her book and started reading it again. Hey, at least it wasn’t like that tv show–at least I had three months to prepare. A friend of a friend (who is also a very reasonable, intelligent woman) had arrived at the hospital in labor last year without ever knowing she was pregnant, so at least I had notice.

Two weeks after my first doctor’s appointment (three weeks after learning the news at all), I went back for a follow-up ultrasound. They hadn’t gotten to see all the views they’d wanted to earlier. This time the tech hardly said a word. My sister picked up on this earlier than I did; I was just concentrating on trying to see the screen. (I’d had a stubborn migraine for three days and it was affecting my vision with this weird black dot.) My sister asked whether we’d be seeing the doctor that day or just having the ultrasound. Oh yes, she said quickly. We would see her.

We waited for about 45 minutes and then were called back. Dr. Awesome came in and explained that they weren’t satisfied with the baby’s growth in the past two weeks. She said that my amniotic fluid was low and that his Doppler readings weren’t great. She wanted to admit me for 24-hour observation. That was upsetting (and I cried), but I was glad to do whatever I needed to do.

By the time they wheeled me across the catwalk to the hospital and got me checked in, my blood pressure had skyrocketed. Women in my family always have somewhat low blood pressure, so at first we thought it was a mistake. My sister insisted that the nurse take hers so we could compare. But it wasn’t a mistake.

They wheeled me over to another ultrasound lab. This tech was quite a bit more chatty, but I don’t remember much of what she said or what I said. I’m usually pretty fearless but at that moment, I was scared.

Dr. Specialist met us at the door to my room when we got back. With no further ado, she said, “How long have you had a headache?” How did she know that, I wondered. I told her I’d had a migraine for three days. She said, “Does it feel like a normal migraine? Do you see a black dot?” I said no it didn’t and that yes, I did. “I don’t think you have a migraine at all. I think you have toxemia.”

You run across preeclampsia* and toxemia in pregnancy literature, but I hadn’t had time to do any research. By now the room was filling up with people: two nurses, Dr. Specialist, and Dr. Awesome had just arrived. (My sister was by my side, of course.) It quickly became clear that this was a Big Deal.

My family was summoned and assembled. Meanwhile my blood pressure continued to rise. A nurse escorted my family members out to the hall, one by one, and vehemently imposed upon them the importance of keeping me calm and quiet, as my blood pressure was putting me at risk for stroke or seizure. Dr. Specialist told me they were going to give me a steroid shot to try to mature the baby’s lungs quickly. She hoped we’d have enough time for two shots–a day apart–since by now I was only at 29 weeks. They also gave me an injection of magnesium sulfate to forestall any seizures. I didn’t cry during this part. I was in shock.

The problem with this particular complication is that there’s only so much you can do to manage it. The only cure is getting the placenta out. Until that happened, I was going to keep getting sicker. Finally Dr. Specialist and Dr. Awesome decided I needed an emergency c-section as soon as possible; we couldn’t wait. They wheeled me off to the operating room, again accompanied by my sister, who was at this point sporting a hospital gown over her suit and little booties over her high heels.

By now my face, hands, and the rest of my body were significantly swollen. They were a little concerned about getting the spinal block in the correct location because of the swelling. But they did, and from then until late the next day, I didn’t feel much from my sternum down. The actual operation was very quick. I was in and out and back in my room in 45 minutes total. The only man in the OR was my baby; both his team and my team were entirely comprised of women.

Though the neonatologist had warned me that he probably wouldn’t cry because he would be intubated almost immediately, he did cry. It was a tiny, mewling, sweet sound. But I couldn’t really see him all the way across the room and of course they whisked him away to NICU as quickly as they could. He and I weren’t reunited until about 36 hours later, since I was also in intensive care.

Just like that, I was a mommy. In the space of about three weeks.

 

* Preeclampsia and toxemia are interchangeable. It’s a fairly common complication with pregnancy, but it is a very serious and potentially life-threatening one. If the mother’s blood pressure rises too much, the flow of oxygen and nutrients to the baby is reduced. It can also lead to lots of other problems for both baby and mother; go Google it for more info.

ACTUAL braces post-mortem

July 27, 2011 in braces, iBraces, Invisalign, orthodontia by txmere | No comments

I got my braces off today. For real this time. As you may recall, I wore iBraces (now inexplicably rebranded as Incognito Braces) on both top and bottom teeth for two years and then had them removed in favor of Invisalign a year ago.

As of today I’m officially done. I pick up my clear retainers tomorrow.

Three years, multiple-thousands of dollars, and lots of pain later, I’m done. Was it worth it? Abso-frickin-lutely. When I began this journey in 2008, I said that life is too short to hate your own smile. It’s too short to cover your mouth when you laugh. It’s too short to try to hide your teeth when you talk because you’re embarrassed about them. (And of course, if you’re from Tennessee, you already know that “no teeths depresses people.”)

Having now been the recipient of three different kinds of braces in my life (I wore conventional braces for barely a year when I was 12), I’m in a pretty good position to compare and contrast. Obviously no one’s in a better position than your own personal orthodontist to recommend a course of treatment because everyone is different. Their cases will be different. I was not a candidate for Invisalign in 2008 but I was in 2010. (Most people should probably not expect to be able to shift brands midstream unless there’s a really good reason; in my case there was.)

The biggest advantage of Invisalign over iBraces/Incognito and conventional braces is also its biggest drawback–removability. (I just made up that word.) It’s great to be able to take them out to eat and brush. Additionally, flossing is SO much easier with them, as are dental cleanings, as my dental hygienist has mentioned more than once. But why is it a drawback that you can take them out? You have to know yourself well enough to figure out ahead of time whether you have the discipline to put them back in quickly once you’re finished eating or brushing or whatever. Otherwise you’re wasting everyone’s time and lots of your own money. (If you don’t, some of your teeth will shift but some won’t and your next set of aligners won’t fit correctly and you’ll ultimately have to spend time doing refinements long after you should’ve been finished.) But for me it was nice–after having to learn through trial and error what food adults can actually eat with braces–to throw out the rules.

iBraces were nice because they were completely invisible. (Newsflash: Invisalign is NOT invisible. You’ll probably end up with attachments on the front of several of your teeth; they’re used for leverage.) They were not-so-nice because they did irritate my tongue a lot of the time (tip: tear Mack’s Pillow Soft Earplugs in half and stick ‘em to any bracket or wire that’s bothersome), they tended to pop off frequently even when I was being careful, and they were pretty hard to clean around. Oh, and they totally give you a noticeable speech impediment!

Conventional braces–well, I can’t really come up with advantages other than lower cost. When you’re a teenager, most of your peers have them too so it’s really no big deal. Once you’re an adult, things change. On the other hand, adult orthodontia is WAY more prevalent in recent years than ever before so I don’t think anyone should reject them immediately. Considering that both the other methods I already discussed are roughly twice the price of conventional, this may well be your best option.

All in all, if you’ve been thinking about it, go ahead and do it. You won’t be sorry. You’re never too old and it’s never too late to make things right.

Open memo to IT professionals, code monkeys, and anyone else applicable

July 20, 2011 in Uncategorized by txmere | No comments

I fully understand that you take information security seriously. This is your job. You are paid to care. But please also understand how unrealistic your expectations are in real world applications.

I have to use web-based software for a number of things in the course of my job too. (The majority of them require a certain sub-par browser that you yourselves all love to hate. That is another rant for another day. Suffice it to say: REALLY?) I use one site for the totality of our accounting software, another (90s-era) banking site to deposit rent checks, an out-of-state FTP to upload invoices and reports so other people can see them, a DIFFERENT out-of-state extranet for those same invoices and deposit advice reports, and the actual bank website (also 90s-era) for wires. Each of those requires a password with different character requirements. Except for the actual bank website, which uses a token, those sites require changing the password periodically–usually every 3-6 weeks. Two of them don’t allow repeats, ever.

Yes, I know, this is for the company’s protection. Well-being. Keeping hackers at bay, whatever. It makes sense for the banking stuff. The FTP and extranet–there’s nothing sensitive in there so if someone wants to see my plumber’s invoices that badly, whatever. It’s not as though they aren’t also stored on our server if someone decided to wipe the contents of the folder. But the accounting software? I taught it to myself because no one else here knows it. There’s really nothing anyone would be able to do in there even if they got in. Why is it really necessary to force a new password every 3 weeks?

Information security professionals say not to leave your passwords lying around. “Protect them like you protect your PIN!” they say. And especially don’t put them on a post-it underneath your keyboard, since that’s the first place someone would look.

Well I don’t do that. I have them on a post-it stuck to my monitor because I can’t remember 5 different effing passwords since I have to change all of them so often. Frankly you’ve left me no choice in the matter.

So don’t judge me for breaking a rule that’s impossible to keep. Each and every site that I listed requires a different login, which only I know. Two of them also require a numeric code, which only I know. Someone sitting at my computer would have to figure out which site goes with what because I don’t have them bookmarked. No one’s going to take that kind of time for the kind of boring, lame info that’s behind all these precautions. This is a small company in an industry that’s notoriously low-tech. Get real.

You Are So Nashville If… (2011 edition)

July 14, 2011 in YASNI by txmere | No comments

It’s time.

Way to go Zack, Ilissa, Lesley, and Waldo!

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