Cue The Music

Recently, I was invited to join a group of bloggers as an ongoing roundtable for brain tumor patient issues. When the email popped into my inbox, I was surprised, and honored to be included. Over the past four and a half years I've corresponded with many brain tumor fighters, and family members of fighters; a few times I've been solicited to endorse various products (which I've turned down - ironically they were mostly pharmaceuticals), but I had yet to be invited to submit a post on a specific subject regarding brain tumor patient care or patient issues. I am flattered! The deal is that I submit my post and then out of all the submissions the National Brain Tumor Society will choose a few to be featured on their national website. I don't know if that excites me or terrifies me, but I do love to write so I figured this will at minimum be a fun homework assignment, a good challenge. The topic: What symptoms do you think should be candidates for therapeutic drug development?

When I read the topic, I slouched down, disappointed. I was hoping for something else, anything else, that I could write organically and passionately about. The tricky part? I don't like to take drugs. (Which, humorously, will probably bump me out of the running of getting on http://www.braintumor.org/.) But what do I do? I wasn't about to all of a sudden flip flop my stance just for the chance to be published. At least, I didn't think I would. But as I started really thinking about drugs, I remembered my lorazepam prescription which as been a life saver. Possibly even literally. Lorazepam is what I take as I feel an aura, the premonition of a seizure, coming on. It effectively mitigates my seizure issue, stopping my seizures in their tracks. It allows me to live a semi-more-normal life. So, although I don't like to use medications, I realize that there is definitely a place for them in my life. Not only is there a place, I actually need them.

Even though the idea of taking more drugs is unappealing, I acknowledge that it is in my best interest to keep my mind open. My hesitation as been due to the traumatic side effects I've experienced from the various drugs prescribed for my brain surgeries and seizures. Sure, sometimes they were minimal and worth it, but most of the time I felt like I couldn't win, that I was stuck in some sort of medical purgatory. I've dealt with horrible acne of all kinds, moodiness, weight gain, lethargy, even thoughts of suicide - all from taking those tiny little pills. Side effects are no joking matter, sometimes they're even worse that the symptom you're trying to alleviate. So, anyway, as I've digressed, what symptoms do I think we need more drugs to combat? Huh. Tough one. I have to scan back to my situation: exhaustion, memory loss, cognitive issues, word-finding issues, extreme difficulty handling changes in routine, seizures, nerve damage from surgery, vertigo, brain pain/headaches, scar pain, sensory defensiveness or overload. I can't even think of the other random symptoms I deal with. It has all become a sort of blur that is my life.

But if I was to hope for a miracle drug that could evaporate one or a few of my symptoms, a magic pill that would help me get back to normal, that ever elusive state that we remember fondly - the time before diagnosis - I would hope for something to poof away my exhaustion without causing a seizure. Or I would poof away my brain pain and headaches. Ultimately, I wish I could poof away all of it so that I could run free like the happy little squirrel that I am, but I know that it's impossible. I can't unexperience this brain tumor life. I am forever changed. It's a shame that we can't unknow things, or unhave specific experiences. So, since I will most likely never be able to take a pill to poof all of the symptoms of my tumor, and my brain surgeries, I do wish for something that would give the illusion of health, and would provide a more enjoyable day-to-day life. If I didn't experience scar pain, screw pain, incision pain, and headaches in general or if I didn't experience such drastic exhaustion on a daily basis, it would be a great improvement in the quality of my life. It would allow my brain to heal and rest, and probably assist the recovery from my cognitive issues, even lessen my seizures. All this stuff has such a domino effect. And if the side effects were minimal, I might just get up and dance about it. Oh who am I kidding, I already started wiggling in my chair at the word dance (cue C&C Music Factory, "Everybody dance now..."). Ultimately, nothing is going to keep me down for long, not a headache, or complete exhaustion. I won't wait on a pill to live my life, but I'm not going to lie, the option sure would be nice.

The Issue of Supplements During Treatment

The information about whether or not to take supplements during treatment is confusing. The vast majority of oncologists say to avoid all supplements, especially anti-oxidants, during treatments, but I think that's a shortsighted stance. There's a plethora of research studies showing the benefits (and sometimes the downfalls) of adding a few supplements to your protocol. There are many oncologists that are anti-supplementation, but then there are lots of cancer nutritionists, and other alternative specialists who are pro-supplementaton during treatments. Not knowing who to trust, we often end up avoiding healthy supplements that can act synergistically with our radiation/chemo/etc., or we pick the wrong supplements which can lessen the cancer killing effect of the treatment. But how do we know what to do? Who do we trust? We don't have the time, or often the brain power, to sift through everything when we're dealing with a new diagnosis, or the progression of disease. That's why I was very excited to see that Ben Williams, Ph.D. updated his research on the issue of supplements during cancer treatment. You may recognize Ben Williams, Ph.D. as a glioblastoma fighter who wrote the book, Surviving "Terminal" Cancer. He's an incredible resource who is very active in the brain tumor world. This guy knows his stuff. His paper is 42 pages, which may seem overwhelming at first, but when dealing with such a complex issue you really do want exhaustive information. This is truly a fabulous resource. You can access the document below, just click. Enjoy.

The Role of Supplements (including Anti-Oxidants) in Cancer Treatment

By

Ben A. Williams

The Glass Box

I hate saying this. I hate that this is the situation; that this is how I feel. But, this is a tumor blog and it's where I go to share my journey, so here goes nothing....

Tonight I went to a couples baby shower. It was at an understated, yet trendy bar full of friends. There was laughter, and hugs, and back slapping, and smiles. The celebration was for a specific husband and wife, but half of the women there were pregnant, so by default, it was a celebration for several along side. 

I got the chance to catch up with my beautiful friends, which was lovely, and yet painful. I even cried on the drive home, which is incredibly rare.

Throughout the evening, as I got caught up with people's lives, I couldn't help but notice the disparity between who I would be if I hadn't been diagnosed (a career, the ability to drive, financial stability, perhaps children). As I listened to people speak, with a smile on my face, I felt myself mourn for my old self. I mourned the person I could have been, of who I was on track to be.

I love watching my friends deliriously happy, so excited with their life's journey. But it's also confusing. It's uncomfortable that being around friends makes me both happy, filled with joy, and yet regretful, deeply saddened. I hate that I feel that way.

Currently, I am stuck on a hamster wheel of treatments and won't be finished for years. My life is lived in 4 hour increments, and I should be thrilled by that luxury since it implies that I'm doing well. But it is also extremely taxing. I can handle the stress when I live in my bubble, when I bound around the house being silly with Dan, or off jogging with Emma. It's times when I'm social that hurt too much. That make me feel isolated within a crowd. I can't relate. It's as if I'm in the room, but surrounded by a clear glass box. Alone. This girl who used to be incredibly social, even labeled vivacious by some, has morphed into an introvert. A person more comfortable by herself.

I am very grateful to be alive, please don't get me wrong, but I don't know if I will ever get used to living in limbo. I am putting all of my energy into these treatments, all of our money, and energy, and if they don't work then I will have wasted precious time that I could have spent crossing stuff off of my (yet to be written) bucket list. 

I hate that I'm so self absorbed that I couldn't even completely enjoy such a special occassion. Lots of "hate" in this post. I hate that too.

Last Minute Cherry Sale (Short Window)

Sorry for the short notice, but I just received the call that cherries will be delivered to my house this Thursday (July 24th) and available to pick-up that day, or the following day, Friday (July 25th) any time. 

The cherries are by pre-order only and I need the numbers by the end of the night tonight. Here's the info:

Organic Bing Cherries

1 bag = 1.25 lb = $7.50

If you or some friends, or coworkers are interested, please send me your orders. You can pick them up at my house anytime Friday day, evening, or night. If you can't pick them up until Saturday, I'm sure we can work something out.

Thank you for the support, and I'm sorry this is such short notice!

Love,

Jess

PS Email me if you have questions or want to place an order. (jessoldwynttf@gmail.com)

Medical Marijuana: Friend or Foe

Since I shared out loud, opening myself up to friends and strangers about my diagnosis, I have been inundated with suggestions about adding cannabis to my protocol. Sometimes it's been under the cloak of privacy, other times it has been aggressively splattered on my old Facebook page. It is a divisive subject with loyal believers of its' healing properties, conversely others remain afraid of the psychoactive effects, fearful that it deteriorates lives. The first time I ever smoked pot was in high school. I think I was 15. Growing up on San Juan Island, we were taught in our fifth grade drug class that Marijuana grew naturally in our environment. We were taught how to spot it, and that we were to find an adult to remove and destroy it. As a kid, I was fearful of drugs, but marijuana seemed different. I never grew a liking toward it, though I experimented, and throughout the years would still play around every several years with friends. The pot made me unable to do my favorite things, though, like talk a lot, be quick witted, or harness my boundless energy. I still have friends that are regular pot users (which seems like such a lame way to describe it), and they're great. They're brilliant, and hilarious, and successful in their careers, but for me, it was like a rolling haze throughout my brain, shutting doors along the hallway of Thought Process. It was a bad fit.

With that being said, when people shared anecdotal stories of shrinking tumors, the alleviation of pain, or of enhanced sleep, I listened (or read the emails) with the same skepticism I hold toward anti-seizure medications, or standard of care. I would analyze their words and feel my throat ache with the memory of my old cigarette smoking ways (gross - still can't believe I ever lit up). I thought, Man, maybe it could help but at what cost? Smoking causes cancer too, remember? So I tabled it. I have two brain tumor fighting friends who use cannabis as a treatment. One smokes a puff before bed, and the other uses a resin of 1:1 (THC:CBD) orally on a cracker at night. Until recently I had only seen said anecdotal accounts - no scientific evidence to verify cannabis as a viable glioma fighting tool. I shy from believing third, fourth or linearly further removed stories. But, Stephen of AO and I have been scouring, researching, reading, discussing, and we've found information to support the use of medical marijuana for glioma. There's a trick, though, a caveat; there are things to know.

Now, this is not an exhaustive post to teach you everything you need to know about medical marijuana, this is just a basic overview of why I think you should acknowledge the relevance of the treatment. And I'm including a few things you should know as a brain tumor fighter, or as a discerning individual who reads this blog for fun.

Marijuana/Cannabis

• There are over 80 cannabinoids in each plant (THC is the most known, CBD is second most prominent)

• THC is known for its psychoactive effects

• CBD is not psychoactive

• CBD balances THC's psychoactive effects

• CBD has shown impressive results in alleviating seizures, insomnia, anxiety, and tumors

• There are plants that have been bred to have only trace amounts of THC (causing zero psychoactive effects) but up to 18% CBD (the good stuff)

• Industrial hemp which will not get you high, naturally contains a CBD of 3-4% which for a non-bred strain is considered high CBD. 

• The way to ingest CBD is not by smoking. You need to take it as an oil, a resin, by juicing leaves or buds, or turning it into a smoothie.

• THC has been shown in studies to lower immune response (the extent of which is unknown)

CBD & Adult Seizures
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/7413719

CBD & Childhood Epilepsy
http://www.gwpharm.com/Clinical%20Use.aspx

CBD & Sleep Inducing and Anti-Epileptic Activity
http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/7028792

Like I mentioned, this is not intended to be exhaustive. I just wanted to give a starting point for others. This is merely a little introduction so that you can research for yourself and decide if it's something you may want to use in your cancer fighting. And for those who don't have cancer, I hope this helps open your eyes, and your mind to medicinal marijuana - it certainly did for me. The benefits, and merits of the plant are not debatable. It is proven. The sticky part (ha!) is that it gets a shady (double ha!) rap because of the recreational use which upsets many. Luckily, in my state, marijuana is legal. It's still cost prohibitive to get the doses I need, though. If I purchase the CBD it would cost $56 a day for me to cut seizures, stabilize my infamous sleep issues and copy the proven dosing to fight my glioma tumor cells. I can't afford that. It is frustrating to see something that could help me so much, but I can't attain it, not in the quantities I need. And all of those benefits without any psychotropic effects. Isn't that amazing? CBD could increase my quality of life 100 fold, let alone extend it.

I read, while doing research, that the Washington state House passed a bill (1888) in February to legalize the farming, processing, and sale of raw industrial hemp and related  products. As far as I can tell the bill was stuck in the world of revisions and rereading in the state Senate, now WSU is conducting a feasibility study with an end point of January 2015. The point of argument in the Senate is whether the WSDA should be the sole source of seed or just certify the seed. Hopefully they can figure that out.

The most ironic part of this whole issue, this whole post, is that a major portion of my parents business has until recently been comprised of industrialized hemp imported from (at times Hungary, Romania, and Poland) other countries. It was in the form of hemp twine, cord, thread, even fabric. With sweaty brows, and dust covering my clothes, I have literally heaved shipping containers worth of the stuff, never knowing the amazing power hidden in my arms. I'm coming around, though. Things are changing. I hope this information helps you see the benefits we can harness from this amazing plant.

The Earth has so many secrets still. Lets keep our minds open.

Invisibly Expensive

I'm feeling so grateful to be alive today. For some unknown reason, the sentiment is stronger than usual. It's palpable. It feels good!

I feel like one of the luckiest girls in the world. To have grown up on one of the most beautiful islands on the planet, to wander down to our pond with Kaal watching tadpoles morph into frogs, to collect beach glass on sunny days walking along South Beach. To be influenced by the gracious and reprimanding adults of the community that helped mold me. To learn from teachers who watched me grow from the time I was a toddler, pushing me to always challenge myself, to never settle. To get to experience Costa Rica as an exchange student in high school; realizing how amazingly different cultures are, yet noticing the similarities of human nature. That I was able to travel to Texas for college, experiencing the unique world of Southern Charm. That in my late 20's I was able to explore Thailand with only a backpack strapped over my shoulders. That I was nurtured by Friday Harbor and West Seattle friends who happened to live there, softening the blow of fear as I traveled alone. I was able to analyze who I was, who I wanted to be, what I believed in, and I spent a lot of time questioning the purpose of life. It was a time of epiphanies, of self growth. Then came deep love. True love. The partnering with my soul's mate. Which too soon, came the headache, the demanding of a MRI, and ultimately the moment that turned our lives upside down. That I survived the first tumor resection, then almost died from the blood clot in the tumor cavity. That I learned how to speak again, and read, and write, and walk, then run. That I have survived a second brain tumor, and now I'm fortunate enough to travel for medical care. That I am here, that I'm able to fight for my health. That I currently am without a tumor mass in my brain. It's amazing!  

Last night my buddy Jess and I were laughing about my body. We laughed because Dan and I may not have fancy things, or expensive cars. We don't own a house, or have any assets. Instead, last year alone, we had just shy of $90,000 of medical deductions for our taxes. And that's only the amount that the government recognizes as tax deductable, we had more that we could not write-off. Essentially, in one year, my body cost us over $100,000. It's weird, I'm not draped in name brands, or fancy jewelry, but I probably cost more than 90% of the outfits walking around even the most expensive stores. I am invisibly expensive. Like a diamond in the rough. 

It's humorous, the expense of my body, but at the same time it's kind of sad. I wish Dan didn't have to spend every extra dollar on my health. I wish he could fix up his car, or have a vacation that wasn't centered around a medical shot, or Dopa PET scan. I wish I could give him the wedding he deserves, or shoot, just provide the honeymoon (hubba, hubba). But we will never spend the money. We can't. 

I am deeply happy to be alive, to be able to walk outside and brush my fingertips across our beautiful blue hydreangeas, or kneel down to trace the back of my had across our soft lambs ears (yes, yes I know, technically they're weeds, but the bees and butterflies love them so much). I'm am immensely grateful to be alive, and when I feel disappointed by the inevitable burden that is placed on Danny and my parents (who provide the venom and help with the cherry sales and many things during surgery times and so much of my emotional support), I try to remind myself that we can always get 'things' later. That life won't wait. That my medical care isn't an option. We work so hard to get to the place that most people take for granted. It's not their fault, it's human nature. Young people aren't supposed to get sick. We're supposed to hearty, and healthy and invincible.  

When I feel sad about the things that Dan doesn't get to do, or how his life is changed by my health, I try and picture myself on the west side of the island being whipped by the salty air, or I anticipate the sweet scent of native blackberries that will permeate the air very soon. I just change the subject, and hope that my health will continue so that burden of me, and my care, will lessen. That someday we will be more normal. To not have such financial demands. That I will be able to someday fulfill Dan and my dream of owning a home, and for me to bear him children. It's scary to dream, especially in a world like ours that is so fluid, and unstable, but if you aren't dreaming, then you aren't living. And if you aren't living, you're just not dying.

Here's a delicious drink I created yesterday on my quest to survive this Seattle heat spell. My favorite part is the froth on the top, but if you don't like that just give it a quick swirl with a spoon before you poor. This is not a smoothie, it's light, and meant to be poored over ice.

Kale Cooler

1 liter coconut water 

1/2 cucumber (with peel)

5 large kale leaves (stems removed)

1 celery heart & leaves (I eat a lot of celery as snacks so I keep the hearts and leaves for my smoothies.)

1/3-1/4 cup mint (stems removed)

1-2 inches of ginger root (peeled)

Here's the nutritional information for the whole pitcher: 

The total calories for the entire pitcher: 348. You can add extra water to dilute and the concoction will go even further. I like to drink a full, regular glass, then I keep filling the cup with water because it retains some of the green goodness as flavor.

Don't just not die. Do something that makes you feel alive today. 

Coconut Wisteria Popsicle

It is so hot. Soooo hot. Looking for reprieve this afternoon, I decided to create a random popsicle recipe to make us happy, and distract us from our lack of AC. The 80's are tough, and there's rumors of 90's next week. Ugh. I'm such a mossback. I miss my rain.

Did you know you can eat wisteria flowers? They're delicious too! Don't eat the stems, though, or the leaves or seed pods. All those other parts are toxic, even deadly for young children, especially the seed pods. The flowers taste like butter lettuce with a tiny hint of honeysuckle. Very refreshing. 

Fresh off the vine! (Second round of blooming already this year.)

Ingredients

1 frozen banana (I keep them around in a pinch, you could use a raw banana too.)

2 cans of full fat coconut milk

1/2 cup shredded unsweetened coconut

1 small avocado (pitted & peeled)

1 cup wisteria flowers stemmed

Important to remove stems. If you have allergies you should remove the pistils and stamens too. (We don't so I left them in. I like the flavor, it gives a hint of honey.)

Blend everything (except for the flowers). If it is too thick, add just a bit of water, little by little.

Blend for a quick swirl, literally a pulse or two, leaving it nice and chunky so that you can see some flowers in the mix, along with the fiber of some of the chopped petals. Then you just pour it into the molds, and freeze them. Aren't they beautiful, and feminine? 

This recipe makes about 20 popsicles, each holding approx 109 calories. 

Here's the breakdown of macronutrients and nutritional information for one popsicle. 

You could probably use a lower fat coconut milk, but why? Fat is so good for you. It gives such a rich consistency, making it much more satisfying. I also noticed after eating it, my lips were softer which is an added bonus when everything is so dry.

Anyhoo, I hope you like it! Perfect recipe for a random Wednesday. I wish my niece Isla was with me today. She would have thought the whole thing was as cool as I did. There's nothing like a little scavenging for nibbles in the yard. 

Nature's Heartbeat

"Life is occupied with perpetuating itself and surpassing itself; if all it does is maintain itself, then living is only not dying."

That quote is from a random book I read over the weekend while staying at George & Diane Steed's guest house in Friday Harbor (my brother's wife's grandparents). I can't remember the name of the author, but I'm pretty sure the book is titled Voluntary Simplicity, or something similar of that nature. Reading it, as it was published before the mass of home computers and cell phones, was fascinating. In fact, the Steeds are facinating. The guest house had no TV, no radio, not even a clock, and I loved it. You could hear the crashing of waves from time to time, as they're out on the north end of the island just off the water, and it felt like a heartbeat; that I was snuggled safely in Nature's womb. Dan would still fiddle on his phone, but I completely powered down. We played Chinese checkers over decaf coffee in the morning, and listened the birds outside our window before bed. It was glorious. 

I visited mostly with Diane. She is so interesting, very well read, and curious, and happy, and kind. Dan and I noticed, as we were laying down for a nap one of the afternoons, how much of a treat it was to visit with people of the Steed's generation. We don't get to visit and hear stories from octogenarians very often. The stories we get are from books, or movies, or TV shows. They're often fabricated, or embellished, or extreme, or third party accounts. To hear from real people about their experiences, is a special treat. If I lived in Friday Harbor I would want to visit them all the time. Listening to their stories is like being told unique secrets. Secrets that so few get to hear. 

Life happens in the blink of the eye and each moment I get to spend hearing other people's life stories, the things they've seen, the lessons they've learned, the views they have formed - especially those with some experience under their belt - helps mold me into a more compassionate and open minded person. And it helps me grasp the enormity and the subtleties of the human journey. 

While we were there, we had another rainbow sighting, again with no rain. She popped up while we had been watching the 4rth of July parade, and had to sneak off to do venom. Dan's mom drove the venom down from her fridge and as I laid in the back seat of the car, and Dan dropped the drips into my nose, with my head hanging out the door, I looked up and saw my friend the rainbow. If I had not been upside down, I would never have seen her. Sometimes, even when you don't know it's there, you're being protected, watched over. 

And finally a picture of one of my best buddies, my niece Isla. 

If you look to the back, between Isla and my head, you can see Dan in the background. 

Happy 4th!

Orthoexia? What!

Holy. Cow. I have borderline orthorexia. 

It's an actual thing. 

I was watching the news this morning and a story came on about a girl who went vegan and about a year into it she realized that she would stand in front of the fridge for 20 minutes, overanalyzing her food choices, afraid to make a decision. She was obsessed with picking the healthiest choice (the definition of orthorexia). Hearing her story was like looking into the mirror. The girl became malnourished, having an extreme case of the disorder. I would consider myself more borderline, but the truth is, my obsession with food has lead me to become weak, have more seizures, limited my activities, and has isolated me from social settings. It has been too much. My relationship with food has become unhealthy. 

The tricky part, is that in the case of cancer many people say that their extreme food choices (orthorexia) saved their life. That it stopped their tumor growth, or even healed them. Of course, as with everything, there's a fine line, but I'm realizing for me personally, I've crossed it. Analyzing food has been all encompassing. Food has come to signify life or death. It has become my god and my devil. 

This realization, of orthorexia, comes just several days after making the choice to stop being so restrictive. I have stopped checking macronutrients (even though I can mentally size up grams, and ounces, and calories, and fat content and carb amounts of various foods - vegetables, fruits, meats, dairy items, oils, nuts - by memory) I no longer eliminate things from my diet. I made that decision after observing the fact that my seizures have gotten worse the more I restrict, the more I obsess and remove foods from my diet.

I should say, I can't, nor would I want to, unknow what I know about food. I'm now allowing myself to use my vast knowledge (and part of this is me acknowledging that I am educated enough to make great decisions) to eat the way that I need to for energy, for seizure control, and for tumor-fighting. Every body is unique. Each body has specific needs, and now that I've tried everyone else's protocols, I need to just create my own. I finally feel comfortable enough, after trying every tumor diet I could find, to fly on my own. Now I'm truly off in unchartered territory. My own rules. My own way. I feel empowered, but nervous. My training wheels are off. 

I have always put so much weight on food choices, since I was diagnosed, then progressively so as I researched more and more. Now it's up to me to make the best decisions. To compile all of my reading, my knowledge, and live healthy, to fight my tumor, and eliminate seizures, and have enough energy to get out and enjoy life. I hope I'm making the correct decision. I guess we'll find out in October when I have my next MRI. Perhaps, I just need to have faith in myself. And remind myself that no one diet (vegan, raw, restricted ketogenic, paleo, vegetarian, Budwigs, macrobiotic...etc.) cures cancer. But a percentage of people do well on each one. I need to go back to listening to my body, and quit beating my head against the brick wall of food/diet. 

I leave you with a photo of Charlie, my largest, happiest, cucumber plant. Note to self: I should probably stop naming my plants because it makes it harder to eat them. 

1st Cherry Delivery (this year)

Thank you thank you thank you for buying cherries at Kings Market & Market Place!! You guys are so wonderful!! I love it when you comment about buying cherries, and the emails, and the text messages!! It's like you're sending me hugs, and it makes me feel incredibly special. If you take any photos, I'd love to add them to the blog!

We delivered on Saturday, and the whole trip was a blast. Hanging out with Dan is my favorite thing to do. He appreciates my rediculousness. We were stressed about missing the ferry (which we didn't) but spent the entire trip laughing. And a road trip to deliver cherries might be the best thing ever. It was so much fun! The best part was getting to thank everyone at both grocery stores. This is our third year of selling cherries, and it's a wonderful fundraiser. More than that, though, it's really fun to have something to provide, to not just ask for help. Usually my dad does the deliveries, since I can't drive, and it was nice for us to take over and accomplish what he normally does since he's away getting venom. 

I can't thank you guys enough for all of the support. I love doing the cherry sales, and I feel really fortunate that Kings and Market Place partnered with us to make this a reality. 

Thank you thank you thank you thank you!! :))))))....(that's my smiley face with a bunch of extra chins because I'm so happy).