Lila Growth Update

Lila with a 2 liter bottle


September 26, 2009



October 27, 2009

Stalker Swine

As I have mentioned in the past, I admire how Parguayns don’t let any part of the animals they butcher go to waste. They use every little bit. However I do not like it when I’m feel like I’m being stalked by those every little bits.

Sometimes Marcia accepts payment into the form of something other than cash from her patients. Recently payment came in the form of a pig. I discovered said payment about 2 weeks ago when I opened up the freezer to put a 2liter jug of Tang to cool down.






There he was, all of him, the whole pig, just laying in the freezer. Thankfully I saw the back legs first, instead of the head. I can’t help but wonder which flat surface they used to cut of the head, and if they actually sanitized the surface afterwards. I swear there were two bloody smudges on the edge of the freezer where the handle is.


(Note the bloody handprints that are still at the rim of the freezer on the right hand side *Heeby geebies)
Eventually they cut off the pig’s head so that the body would lay flat, probably so that his slit open stomach wouldn’t be so exposed. The pig sat there for probably a week or so. Unfortunately sometimes they left the freezer top open or didn’t plug it in, so I can’t image the meat was very clean. However one day I opened the freezer and didn’t see the little feet sticking out. I slowly leaned farther into the freezer, just to check and see that it was all gone and they hadn’t left a bloody mess in its place. Op nope not all gone. They left the head in the freezer!

I was told the body when to Anibal’s parents house, but I have no idea why they decided to leave the head behind. Anyway, the decapitated pig head sat in the freezer by itself for a few more days. 3 days ago a huge storm blew through and knocked out power for several hours. When lunch rolled around I went to heat up some left over chili on the gas-powered stove. I couldn’t turn on the lights, but the kitchen has lots of windows, so I didn’t have trouble finding my way around. When I went to get a pot from under the sink, I noticed that there was something sitting there. In the dark it looked like a strange pile of leafy vegetables. Of course as I got closer I realized that, yes, they left the pig head in the sink. I about fell over and took a few steps back. I had quickly gotten used to the body and the head sitting in the freezer, but why do they have to keep surprising me like that. Goodness people, if you are going to leave a head sitting in a sink, why not give the vegetarian a heads up so I don’t have to get light-headed from inhaling so fast. It didn’t help that it smelled funny. Ugg, I made my chili and left the dirty dishes next to the sink since obviously I was not going to hazard trying to clear myself a space.

I knew that the defrosting head, though I highly doubt it was frozen in the first place since the freezer was hardly ever plugged in, meant they were probably going to have it for dinner soon. I avoided looking into any of the large pots on the stove or into the oven that afternoon and the next day. However on Saturday evening when I went to prepare my standard popcorn dinner, there was a very gross smell in the kitchen and I could tell Marcia had something in the oven. I didn’t look, but she opened the oven door while I was standing nearby, thus revealing a pig jaw, complete with teeth, and other meats bits and letting out a nice big waft of smelly cooked pig, which does not smell anything like bacon by the way. My shoulders cringed as I turned around and started walking out of the kitchen. Anibal caught my grimace and we both started laughing a bit. Again I knew there was pig bits in the oven, but it shocked me a bit to see the jaw itself on the tray, and the smell didn’t help. Oh goodness, Marcia cooks the meat her patients give her, ugg, the smell is just revolting.



I figured after they had the pig bits for dinner that night, I wouldn’t have to worry about any more startling encounters with the little porker. I was wrong. I opened up the freezer and was welcomed by the leftovers of the pig-head dinner sitting in the freezer. The jaw was still there.

Curse you Pooja!

A fellow volunteer asked to stay with me with me for a night to be able to catch the bus in the morning to her site which is on an island several kilometers off of the main highway that runs through my town. The one night stay turned into a four night marathon when the rains came and didn’t stop. She came in on Thursday evening, on Sunday there was some sun, but the buses and taxis don’t really run on Sundays, so she decided to head out on Monday morning. In the wee hours of Monday, the storms came back. But Pooja was set in her determination to get home after a two week trip to the US, some time in Buenos Aires, a few nights in Asuncion. She hadn’t been home in a month and had an 8-month old puppy waiting for her. We waited until the morning rain was just a drizzle, carried her brick-laden luggage over the mud and empedrado to the concrete shoulder of the highway, walked to the terminal, and put her on a bus that had just pulled in the terminal to O’Leary. At 9am she was in a taxi on the way to the boat, around 2pm she called to let me know that she had finally arrived home.

During her stay she was kind enough to leave me with a host of movies, and Marley and Me. She was reading it during her stay and I picked it up to look at the pictures in the center, then I couldn’t help but reading a few pages after the pictures. Pooja caught me and left me the book, which I didn’t want her to do because I had sworn of reading the bok or seeing the movie. The dog dies, got it, don’t want the details thankyouverymuch. But it’s a book, and I don’t have any on me that I haven’t read, so I couldn’t help myself.

The waterworks started around the time when Marley started having difficulty with getting up, going up with stairs, controlling his bowels etc.

Dot, our 15-year-old Doberman/Boxer mix, who was around 80lbs of pure affection at her peak had the same slow decline. Towards the end we had to physically pick up her backside for her because she couldn’t maneuver her hind legs into position or get them to extend. Once she was up she was stiff, but she moved more or less fine. Fortunately she was generally just content to hang out on the floor in a deaf bliss on the living room floor, so we didn’t have to elevate her by hand too often. But when the bowels start to go, that is the line in the sand for my parents. I was on spring break at a leadership camp in 2005 during my freshman year at UT when I got the news.

So far our pure-bred dogs, Gizmo and Buckwheat have died around 10-years old. Dot, the mutt, lasted until about 15. Brinkley, my parents tank of a white boxer, must be around 6, maybe 7, or so and she has a heart murmur. When my mom took her into the vet for her first check-up, the vet told her to take her back, because of her heart condition. At which point my mom started to cry; we are all already head-over heals for our little Valentine’s Day/Mom’s birthday snow baby. She is white, and when we presented her to mom, it snowed.

After reading the book I started thinking about Brinks, and Lila, and about the silly, stupid, puppy love that we have for our animals. The make our lives a living hell sometimes, peeing on all absorbent and non-absorbent surfaces, gnawing on furniture and clothing. I’ve already got ridiculously invested in my 3 month old rambunctious, impish little rabbit whose little rabbit feet must really be lucky because they are still attached and are being cared tenderly, generally patiently, by me, the one person in this city, other than Carly, who isn’t tempted to turn her into bunny chururu or bunny stew. Chururu means fried. Even now, I’m kind of hoping the Carly doesn’t go to Thanksgiving so that I can drop Lila off with her.
I can’t help but think about the email or call that I’ll get someday saying that my parents had put Brinkley down like the call I got with Dot or the text that went to my cousin Brad’s blackberry when they had to put Gizmo to sleep the day I arrived in Mexico to spend my end of high school vacation. Ugg, I don’t want to even think about it.

So thanks Pooja for leaving that hilariously funny, torturous book with me. Now I have to find an up-beat movie to watch to get it out of my head.

Workin' in a coal mine, Goin' down down down, Workin' in a coal mine, Whop! about to slip down

Work is finally picking up. Finally. Here is what I’m working on.

• Making a community calendar and putting it in three prominent locations in the city.
• Putting together a brochure about the Muni explaining what it is and what is does.
• Working with Paraguay Vende, a US AID subsidiary, to help local small business get their products into the local supermarkets.
• Developing debate teams. The education here is all based on rote memorization, so I’m trying to introduce a little critical thinking into the mix. I’m also working on a start-up packet for PC volunteers to help them teach debate too. I’d like to have a nation-wide tournament eventually.
• Working with one of the national ministries to help promote a country-wide moto safety program.
• Trying to get PC to send more volunteers to my area. I’d really like to have an environmental education nearby, but and agricultural extension person would be cool too. Both would be even better 
• Giving presentations in schools about the Muni, democracy and civic participation, the environment, and health topics. I’d really like to have a sex-ed course, but that is a delicate topic, especially in a Catholic country, so I’ll build up some better school connections first.
• In November I’d like to start bi-monthly training sessions with the funcionarios.
• I’m going to visit another volunteer this Friday to help her do her hand washing sessions for National Hand Washing Day.
• Marcia told me that two community groups may ask for my advice to improve their organization.
• I’m on the curriculum committee for a Muni focused youth summer camp in January or February.

Not work but still time-consuming
• I’ve started sessions with a Guarani tutor, and I’ve found a former Mennonite who I might be able to get to teach me Low-German. Now I just need a Portuguese tutor.
• Looking for a house for Carly.

I have become the play thing of the biting insect gods

We have about 10 little chicks living in a box in the kitchen. They were payment from one of Marcia’s patients for some medications. We already have 4 hens and 1 rooster and Marcia said their cage is only safe for 10 adults. Personally I think that would be a horribly tight space for 10 chickens, but anyway… I suspect as the little ones get older the family may start having more chicken based meals to help make room for the new ones.

Maybe I’ll get my wish and they’ll finally eat the noisy one. I’ve almost learned to sleep through his racket, but not quite.

While visiting the main education office chatting with some of the workers there, I mentioned about how Lila is in no danger of being eaten by me because I’m a vegetarian; I don’t eat ‘carne’. A woman in the office commented how rabbits are considered white meat. I really don’t understand why they are always trying to get me to eat an animal that I clearly demonstrate a high amount of affection for.

I’ve started making darn good swiss-chard quiches lately and today I made Cincinnati style chili. The flavor was very interesting; it has cloves, cinnamon, coco powder, and ground nuts. Unfortunately it was very light on the vegetable side. The recipe called for just tomato paste, onions, and garlic… boooring. Next time I’ll mix the Texas and Cincinnati recipes by adding actual tomatoes, green peppers, and red beans to the Cincinnati-style spices. Should be mighty tasty.

Anibal tried to fix my roof recently. It still leaks by my bed and along the wall by the door, but the patches over Lila’s cage are holding strong. As long as those stay in place, I don’t mind the other leaks.

It looks like Lila is getting even more of the black in her coat, at the tips of the cream colored section. Interesting fashion choice for summer. Not the most practical selection, but since she won’t be spending hardly any time in the direct sunlight anyway, I guess she can dress herself up however she sees fit.

Lila is losing her winter coat, so she snows on my black pajama pants when I play with her in the morning. In particular she has a little circle of short hair at the base of each one of her ears, I’m assuming this is an area that she scratches a lot, so the winter coat has come out faster here. However the hair on the top of her head is still long. Carly says she looks like she has a toupee.

10/12/09
I have become the play thing of the biting insect gods.

I spilled some juice on my foot this afternoon and forgot to wash it off, punishment = 5 mosquito bites in 15 minutes in a circle about 2.5 inches in diameter. This is in addition to the ant bite already on that food and the 3 other ant/mosquito bites on my other foot. Itchy Itchy.

When I was in Chile, I learned to drink hot tea to help me warm up in the absence of central heating. I developed a particular affection for the Chamomile Honey and Rose Hip and Hibiscus flavors of one brand of tea, Supremo. I went back to the states and forgot all about the tea because I had a heater. However back in Paraguay I am again without any sort of mechanized heating system, so it is back to the tea routine. Amazingly Supremo is sold in one of the supermarkets. Actually I guess it is not that surprising considering it is manufactured in Chile, which is just a hop-skip-and-a-jump away.

Reforesting Paraguay

I just finished a book about the Dust Bowl and people who stayed at their farms. The Worst Hard Time by Timothy Egan. A really good read that seems to give a very good summary of the agricultural side of the Great Depression by presenting the factual information about the event woven into the narratives of people who lived through it.

It does make me worry about Paraguay. The dirt here is a fine, powdery red sand. We are in the center of South America, so there is no good reason for the dust that would be prized on a ocean-front. The only explaination I can think of is erosion. This is a sub-tropical climate that has been reduced to farmland. I’m living in the center of a green desert with rolling acres of almost nothing but wheat, sunflowers, and soy. While walking on the dirt road behind the ruta I can’t shake the feeling that I’m in small farming community somewhere in the north east, layering rolling hills of crops to the horizon. Its beautiful…and extremely destructive. I’ve heard there is a law that 10% of farmland has to be left as forests, but it is clearly not being enforced. During training I got to see terrifying maps that showed the ever dwindling forests that are being replaced by cropland. Soy is the most important commodity in a poor country; they aren’t going to cut back. There is a factoid that states that this part of south America has the highest amount of different bird species. I’ve usually heard it stated in the present tense, but I highly doubt that it is true anymore. Where are all of these supposed birds living? Not in the treeless fields.

And the removal of the forests has had other negative impacts. Hotter summers, longer winters, droughts, more variability in the climate as a whole. Generally forests function like giant climate moderators, softening the extremes. Now the forests are quickly disappearing. Ask any older Paraguayan and they will tell you that something is off. The seasons just aren’t right.

Unlike the arid grass lands of the great plains of the US, whose soil and rainfall was never meant to sustain anything beyond a thick carpet of hardy grass [and wouldn’t be able to do so today if it wasn’t for people taping into the Ogalla Aquifer] sub tropical soils are not as nutrient rich. If you remember back in grade school, in tropical rain forests, all of the nutrients are at the surface of the soil and above, in the dense plant mass itself. That is why tropical forests make such poor crop land, you can slash and burn for a short period of time, but without the dense biomass system there to recharge the nutrients, the soil is quickly exhausted. While I’d guess this effect is a little more moderate in sub-tropical climates, over long periods of times, the final result is probably the same. Modern fertilizers make up for some of the difference for those who can afford it, but that has its own risks.

I just worry that someday the droughts will come and the crops won’t grow and the normally rich eastern portion of the country will look more and more like its scrub-land brother in the west. I’m afraid that what happen during the dust bowl will happen here, but there won’t be a government with the resources and organization to prop the system back up again like the US did with the New Deal. This is an economy based on agriculture, the smallest, most sensitive populations here are those who work the land in small plots. They will be the ones hardest hit by the mismanagement of the mega farms.

There is a small effort to ‘reforest’ Paraguay, but this doesn’t actually consist of turning farmland back into forest. The program mostly just plants trees in parks and school and other urban areas. Not that that is a bad thing, the more people learn about the importance of trees and how to take care of them the better. However, it is a huge misnomer to say that planting trees in a plaza is ‘reforestation’.

http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/eng/willie_smits_restores_a_rainforest.html

Parasols and Paraguas

After 10 years of using Retin-A, I’ve finally decided I need to heed the ‘Avoid Direct Sunlight’ warning on the box. Even though I use 85spf sunscreen on my face and neck every day, I’m still getting red and I have freckles on my face. I may even, oh goodness, I can’t even say it… I may even have a tan. There, I said it.

To stop the slow advancement of the tan and freckles, I try to observe the siesta and stay indoors from about 12:30-2ish, sometimes even 3 if is a really hot day, when the sun’s ray are the strongest. In the mornings and afternoons I have started carrying an umbrella to keep my face shaded. It is my own little personal cloud. *cue Winne the Pooh’s ‘I’m just a little black rain cloud’

Fun fact
Umbrella in Spanish is ‘paragua’ from the words: parar= to stop; agua = water. Lit = stop water
Parasol/ an umbrella used to keep out the sun is called a ‘sombrilla’. ‘Sombra’ is the Spanish word for ‘shadow’.
If you look at the word ‘parasol’ itself which I would guess comes from the French words for
‘stop’ and ‘sun’
I also find quite entertaining that on a clear day my umbrella is a ‘sombrilla’ and the same umbrella is a ‘paragua’ on a cloudy day. Such a dynamic little item. Actually I have two umbrellas, a large black one for rain, and a smaller silver one for the sun.

I don’t know if the Paraguayan’s realized that black umbrellas will actually generate a substantial amount of heat by themselves in the direct sunlight because of the dark color absorbing the sun’s rays.

Harry Houdini has been reborn as a rabbit

Harry Houdini has been reborn as a rabbit. Lila has an uncanny ability to thwart all of my carefully planned attempts to keep her in her own space, preferring to run free all over my room, which usually includes a potty break on my bed.

First she learned to circumvent the various pens I made from the footboard of my bed and my luggage by knocking over pieces of the make-shift wall, squeezing through small holes I missed, etc. Then she learned use the small table that serves as a roof for her eating and sleeping area as a stepping stool to jump over the cage wall. Once outside of her normal cage area, she learned to use my carry-on sized luggage as a step to my tallest piece of luggage. Sometimes these pieces are about a foot away, but evidently she is willing to make the jump anyway.

Several times I step into my room only to find my little furball standing next to me on the tallest piece of luggage right next to my hand. After coming back from a week at Carly’s house, I was dismayed to find she had finally grown big enough and strong enough to jump on my bed, so that also wouldn’t work as an obstacle anymore. Fortunately last week the carpenter finished the pieces of her cage, so that gave me a new weapon in the fight against my jackrabbit at heart.

Lila’s new ‘cage’ is four independent pieces, 2 squares just under 2.5 feet in length, and 2 rectangles around 5 feet long and just under 2.5 feet high. I didn’t want them connected because I can arrange them in a variety of ways to give her a variety of pens, including one with a top. Very snazzy.

Sometimes Lila jumps onto the chicken wire with all four feet. My little Spiderman in the making hasn’t learned how to actually climb the chicken wire yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she figures it out eventually.

Today I arranged three of the cage pieces in a stretched out ‘Z’ formation so she could run around half of my room, without being able to get on the bed or near the dresser. I came home to find little poo balls on my bed, my jar of peanut butter on the floor [thank fully unopened], the measuring cup that I use to progressively dole out Lila’s daily allotment of oatmeal, and a few other items on the floor.

You see, after using the spokes of the front wheel of my bike to climb over the barrier, she jumped on my bed, and then onto my dresser, to get to the oatmeal. When she was done with the oatmeal, she probably jumped back onto my bed, and hopped back over the barrier to her allotted side of the room where I found her pleasantly munching grass in her litter box.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned before, but Lila is an oatmeal monster. She is almost as bad as Inigo was with his food at first, but she doesn’t bite. When I try to pour the oatmeal into her bowl, instead of waiting for what falls, she goes straight to the source, putting her head directly into the measuring cup. If I try to pull away, she uses her head, front paws, and sometimes her teeth to grab onto the cup to keep it from floating away back to the dresser.

Evidently she decided today that she would to cut out the middle man, me, and opt for the self-serve early dinner option.

I’m very tempted to give her a little more of that oatmeal that she craves so much to put a little junk in her bunny trunk and weigh that load down a bit.

At Home

I spend the last week at Carly’s house while she was on vacation in Brazil with Stephen. She wanted me to look after her things as well as Luna. For the first time since I arrived in Paraguay, I finally felt at home.

I was well-hydrated and well-fed. I could come and go as I pleased. It was amazing. I visited Marcia’s house a few times to get supplies and it was nice to see her again and be welcomed by the family though Nati was overwhelming sometimes after being alone in the house.

At Carly’s house I loved being able to:
• Going to the bathroom every 3 minutes for the 30 minutes following a quickly chugged glass of water [my bladder is the size of a thimble] without worrying the host family will think I am sick.
• Getting up at 6 or 6:30am naturally because I had a good night sleep so I don’t need to sleep until 8 to make up for the tossing and turning in my hard little bed with the roosters outside.
• Not having to worry about Nati banging at my door for no real reason to wake me up at 7am when I don’t want to deal with people yet.
• Being able to get up early in the morning and not be locked out of the kitchen because Nati isn’t awake yet and for some reason she seems to be the primary keeper of the kitchen key
• Having the muni and Cristo Rey[school] about a block away, so that going to work is quick and easy.
• Take up the entire refrigerator without worrying if I’m imposing on the family’s space
• Not having to get completely dressed in the bathroom after a shower
• Coming and going as I pleased without having to worry about the front gate being locked when I get home or worrying that the gate won’t get locked at all and
• Not having Nati constantly in my ear chatting mindlessly touching all of my stuff
• Having a shower head that actually has a good stream of water, the hot water doesn’t last, but in the summer who cares.
• Cuddling up every night to Phantom of the Opera, Miss Potter, Brokeback Mountain etc, that Carly had on her Ipod.
• Making a delicious batch of meatballs and bean stew
• Carly’s bed. It is big and soft. When I woke up this morning after sleeping in fits on my normal bed, I think I bruised my hip. Seriously, there is a sore spot. It could be from my backpack, but I didn’t put the waist belt very tight and the pain is only on one side.

Luna Highlights:
• Luna running away from off-leash area back towards they highway
• Luna digging a moat around Carly’s house
• Luna finally learning to eat all of her breakfast, lunch and dinner which consists of ground beef, dog food, an egg, and mashed potatoes and carrots.
• Luna tried to eat the food I was keeping on the kitchen table, but the first two things she got a hold of were spicy pepper flakes and lemonade flavored Tang. She seems to have stopped after that.
• Luna broke the small tree that her long-leash is tied to, getting out of her collar, and welcoming me as I opened the front door to let her inside the house as if nothing had happened.
• Luna destroyed some of Carly’s tupperware in her quest for shredded coconut.


I brought Lila with me to Carly’s house for the week because I didn’t trust Nati to be able to take care of her and I didn’t want to walk back and for twice a day between the houses. Fortunately her cage was completed on Saturday, so keeping her at Carly’s house was easy. Lila had to stay in the cage most of the time because I couldn’t rabbit proof Carly’s house and Luna is too rough to be trusted with her. We had a good week, but I wasn’t able to take her out and give her as much attention as normal.

Lila was quite happy to get back to my room at Marcia’s house and her normal freedoms. When I left Carly’s house on Friday evening I was a bit tired after making three trips to Marcia’s house to bring my stuff back, a trip to the grocery, and three walks with Luna, cooking, cleaning, and doing some basic unpacking. Remember, I walk everywhere I go.

That evening I just sat on the floor with Lila, she crawled into my arms and I held her and petted her for what seemed like 20 minutes. She put her head right under my chin for a while so I could nuzzle her and give her little kisses. Then she relaxed into the crook of my arm, eyes half closed, fighting sleep like a little kid in the back seat of a car with their head lazily rolling back and forth. Putty Mode Activated. My head was starting to droop too and my eye lids were heavy, but she had been so deprived of attention for the week, I just couldn’t stand to put her away. Eventually she regained consciousness and hopped out of my arms. I put her into her cage for the night and went to bed.


Back at Marcia’s house…

There were some nice things about being back at Marcia’s.
• Doing laundry is much easier.
• My room actually cools down, unlike Carly’s sauna of a house that is always hotter than the temperature outside. We’ve started looking for a new house for her to rent.
• I like the company of Marcia and Anibal.
• The smooth cement floor in my room almost felt slippery when I tried to sweep it after dealing with Carly’s very rough cement floor. I think it used to be a workshop of some sort.
• Being able to play with Lila and let her run around. I realized that she has gotten big enough to jump on my bed again and thus I am quite thankful that I got her little pen made in time because the bed won’t keep my possessions safe anymore.
• Cooking is easier because Marcia’s house has the gas stove and more pots, pans, and dishes, so I don’t feel like I’m constantly using and rewashing the same thing over and over and over.

Other adventures.

One day I semi-lost Carly’s house key. I walked to Marcia’s house and walked back to Carly’s. When I
got there, I didn’t have her house key on my key chain anymore. The other keys were there, but her’s wasn’t. I searched everything I had on me and then walked back to Marcia’s. I was sure that it had not fallen while I was walking, when meant it had to be somewhere at Marcia’s house. Thankfully Nati found it on the kitchen table.

Nati was completely and utterly convinced that Lila was not the same rabbit when I got back to Marcia’s house. She commented that there was more white around her eyes, which is possible, her fur is also getting some black tinges at the end. I explained color change is normal in rabbits, especially when the seasons are changing.

Then she started saying how this Lila was smaller and had smaller feet. While it is possible Lila may have a tiny bit of weight, I can assure you that her feet have not gotten smaller. What actually happened is that Nati got a rabbit that is actually slightly bigger than Lila, and is steadily getting larger because Nati feeds her too much, which thus making Lila appear smaller.

I’ve now decided the two greatest dangers to this new rabbit are obesity, which causes a host of health and digestion issues. Heat is also another potential danger since Nati is prone to keeping her in a cardboard box. She also might run away, because she generally lives in the kitchen and the door is often open. I still think they will probably eat it when Nati gets bored.

Carly and I call the sacrificial bunny ‘Eeyora’ because she is just this dumpy little passive piece of fluff. When you try to pick her up or pet her, she stops moving completely and just sits there. Eeyora even seeks out Inigos attention even though this usually consists of him gnawing on her head.

All in all, I’ll be ready to move out soon. I can’t justify leaving until April when Carly leaves me her stuff, because I’ve got too good of a gig here. Almost no rent, nice family, lots of freedom. But I’ll be ready to go when the time comes.

Lila is Growing Like a Weed

(September 7, 2009)















(September 26, 2009)











(End of August, 2009)


















(September 19, 2009)


























(September 26, 2009)