Aoife and I chilling out in the Montfort Hospital after my second bout of postpartum pre-eclampsia/mild HELLP. Magnesium sulfate drip on tap to prevent me from having a seizure.
Today is World Preeclampsia Day which I shouldn’t let pass unnoticed. There’s much more information on the U.S. Preeclampsia Foundation’s website here about Preeclampsia Awareness month. I had postpartum preeclampsia/mild HELLP twice which is documented in Toxemia (which is the old word for preeclampsia). I chose that title specifically because of the memoir’s focus on preeclampsia but also because the book goes into my experience with mental health, with negotiations within the medical system, chronic illness, and societal expectations for the body. How we see ourselves. How we are kind or not. (A note that May is also Mental Health Awareness Month although Mental Health Awareness Week was earlier this month. Also quite relevant for multiple reasons.)
Preeclampsia Foundation Canada is the hardworking Canadian branch of the organization that has supports research and awareness. It’s possible to make a direct donation here, which I’ll do later today.
In previous years, I co-coordinated the local Ottawa Promise Walk for Preeclampsia though I’ve been stymied by health stuff since 2019 when my heart condition showed up. I was able to work on a walk in 2019 though I was very sick. And then pandemic. And then even post-pandemic, my energy crashes if I do too much. So there was a 2023 Ottawa walk but I haven’t been able to help with one since. Everything in my life screams for me to slow down when I want to speed up. It’s impossible to explain how saturating that is to my day to day. I do strongly believe that this underfunded area of research is worth supporting. A description from the Canadian Foundation’s Canada Helps page:
“Preeclampsia affects 5-8% of all pregnancies and approximately 10 million mothers will develop preeclampsia across the world each year, yet according to the World Health Organization (WHO), preeclampsia is one of the least funded areas of research. We need your help to realize our vision of a world where preeclampsia no longer threatens the lives of mothers and babies. “
There’s an illumination event tonight from coast to coast where landmarks and monuments across Canada will be illuminated in honour of World Preeclampsia Day—raising awareness for preeclampsia, HELLP syndrome, and eclampsia. Here in Ottawa, it will be the Byward Market Ottawa sign.
I’ve been lucky enough to have some recent radio and podcast interviews to link related to Toxemia.
The wonderful Susan Johnston was kind enough to have me and Brecken Hancock on CKCU’s Friday Special Blend to talk preeclampsia, writing life/motherhood, mental health, working in hybridity and Toxemia. Listen to the archived show here.
The indefatigable Hollay Ghadery was willing to chat with me on her New Book Networks podcast, for which I’m very grateful. The episode can be listened to here. I offer a 10 min reading, and we speak about the memoir, choosing form, acknowledging mortality, archival concerns in documenting, writing the body, and darkness. The podcast has such a wealth of different authors and interviews — you should check them all out.
The generous Bruce Kauffman published a recording of the November 2024 drift/line reading series organized by Wanda Praamsma featuring myself, Allison Chisholm, rob mclennan,, and musician Megan Hamilton on his CFRC Kingston’s radio show “Finding a Voice”. You can list to my reading and Megan’s performance here. And you can listen to rob and Allison here.
I’m reading again with the lovely Amanda Earl and rob mclennan in Ottawa on Sunday, June 1st (about a week from now) at the Lieutenant’s Pump. Description: “a reading sponsored by the Writers Union of Canada and the Canada Council for the Arts — three local writers share recent and forthcoming work. Doors open at 1:30pm.”
After that — I’ll be reading with rob in Dublin in July as we follow our eldest’s choir to Ireland. I’ll have a reading in Nova Scotia in November. And I would love to do a few more readings in the summer/fall. Keeping that pinprick of energy in mind — the energy, the energy, the energy.
A quick flip post of thankyous and mentions. The fall and winter fell into a mix of normal (happy but busy) return to work, chaotic family schedules, a tiny bit of travel, general tired, and a few readings. I both welcome and regret spring. The quiet of late fall and deep winter lets me hide and look out windows. It affords more grace for quiet. I think I sometimes pretend that I don’t need that or that my energy is better than it is but it’s an illusion. Rest is required.
I’ve been grateful for:
A warm reading and discussion at Octopus Books with Shannon Arntfield who was launching her debut poetry book Python Love. Thank you to Octopus Books for being such gracious hosts as well as the League of Canadian Poets and the Canada Council for their event through a National Poetry Month event.
Alt text: photo of myself and Shannon Arntfield holdering our books after the event at Octopus Books, taken from their Instagram.
This review by melanie brannagan frederiksen in the Winnipeg Free Press: “In Toxemia (Book*hug, 176 pages, $23), Christine McNair uses medical and cultural histories, folklore and memoir to consider, specifically, preeclampsia — and more generally, the way pregnancy, chronic and acute illnesses are treated in women. McNair’s use of a prose line throughout the text seamlessly blends moves from critique and analysis to memoir to the immediacy of lived memory.
“I am now more afraid of telling doctors my history,” she writes, after struggling to get adequate care for depression while she is breastfeeding. In the penultimate poem, McNair opens with the disorienting truth: “I’ve been told my memories are not my own.””
This review by Andreina Romero, in Room magazine: “A term describing the presence of toxins in the blood, toxemia is also an old name for pre-eclampsia. Moving between memories of her pregnancies, emergency hospital visits, and her struggles with insomnia and depression as a bookbinding apprentice, McNair weaves a narrative history as lived through her body. At its heart, her investigation is about the ways the body rebels against the violence of pregnancy, as well as the intractability of illnesses that disproportionately affect women due to underfunding and under-research.
McNair tries to make sense of the condition in different ways: lyrically through vivid descriptions of symptoms and diagnoses, and genealogically by tracing the medical history of the women in her family—a great-grandmother who died at thirty-six, and her mother, who suffered a miscarriage before McNair was born. The most striking way, however, is analytical: one table lists the overlapping symptoms of a heart attack, depression, and the third trimester of pregnancy. Another compares the symptoms of pre-eclampsia and anxiety. Through these stark juxtapositions, McNair highlights the dangers and sacrifices implicit in the bringing of life into the world.”
This upcoming event through the Speaking Crow series (via plume) in Winnipeg! Both my parents grew up in Winnipeg so it’s a chance to connect with some family when I’m there next week. Thank you to the Speaking Crow series and to the Writers Union of Canada for their support of this event through the National Public Readings Program.
Alt text: promotional information for Speaking Crow reading series event on Tuesday May 6th from 6:30 to 7:30 pm at the St. Boniface Library in Winnipeg. Admission Free.
Also grateful for another upcoming event in Ottawa with rob mclennan and Amanda Earl at the Lieutenant’s Pump in early June! More details soon but it will be good to have a chance to read again in YOW.
I’m hoping to add a few more readings in 2025. More to come. We’re travelling to Ireland in July to follow our daughter’s choir and we’re hoping to read there too if we can. I know I’ll be in Nova Scotia in the fall (dates to be finalized) and I’m hoping to have a few readings there.
In the meantime, I’m watching the garlic and rhubarb come up in the garden. I’m titrating my energy in a beaker. I’m frustrated by the soreness in my right hip. I’m trying to hold a thought. The kids are outgrowing their shoes. I can’t keep track of all the school events. I’m planning the summer. I’m fretting the books in our house. I have the normal flow of annual specialist appointments and endless med managements. I’m fretting the loss of our family doctor for myself/kids and how we’ll replace her. I fret budgets. I’m wishing I could justify buying the garden beds that I want. I’m alternating hot/cold in the constant flow of dread news. I’m looking forward to buying seedlings as the dire winter news ate my capacity for seedlings. I blank out with cozy mysteries and games full of perpetual crops. I can’t wait for all the actual perennial herbs and foods in our garden. I plan the arrival of dirt. The damn blossoms. Can’t wait.
I’m a few months into the launch of Toxemia, my hybrid poetic memoir with Book*hug Press and feel lucky to have had a few readings and reviews along with some private messages and correspondence from folks I admire. It’s such an oddly tender thing to put out a book like this. I can’t always read people at the best of times and with this work it feels like it cost more in the production. Cost more to write (emotionally), cost more to finish (time-wise in time of ongoing medical stuff) and costs more to sit in front of it (in terms of vulnerability). I hope the book will find the readers that get it. And I’m always appreciative when anyone tells me what they think of it because it is such a lonely thing in some ways.
Hollay Ghadery was kind enough to extend the panel discussion at The & festival at Sheridan College with Paige Maylott and Maurice Vellekoop into a three-way interview on navigating vulnerabilities in life writing. (As aside — https://quillandquire.com/omni/students-writers-rally-to-support-sheridan-writing-program-facing-suspension/. Support those rallying.) I truly appreciated the initial discussion and then reading my co-panelists responses to these post-panel questions. A bit from one of my answers to Hollay’s question about our respective chosen forms: “I’ve noticed during the readings that I’ve been doing that I’m still seen as ‘poet’ but the book itself is very much not entirely that. There are some things that play with prose poetry and I do play a bit in the margins but it’s just that the prose isn’t always linear. That doesn’t necessarily mean that it is poetry. The word choices are strange. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m just strange. I like things to be compound and alchemical.”
“While questions of illness and mortality are present in Toxemia, there is also such a great sense of hope in the celebration of persistence, and of surviving of difficult things [….] I suppose that’s what I loved most about this book: McNair writes of the pain and loss of control that comes with physical and mental health challenges, in how our bodies are frustrating animals (especially when we come to realize we have so very little control over them), and still it is also about resilience, bravery, and the need to formulate connections through time and space, and in our current lives. So, Toxemia speaks to the hard-won values of persistence and survival—of managing life’s challenges—but it also rises to celebrate the tenacity of the blooming that arrives alongside the struggle. There’s such beauty in that revelation, and perhaps that it why this work is so gloriously more about growth and strength than about destruction or weakness.” (excerpt from review)
“Christine McNair blends high and low cultures, arts and science, words and images, memoir and research to tell the story of her life as a woman with a body, a body that is so often wrong or dangerous, her symptoms and experience disbelieved, disregarded. [….] “I am now more afraid of telling doctors my history,” she writes. Though with TOXEMIA, she’s made art of that story, a moving and compelling narrative, strange and edgy, unsettling. Unputdownable.” (excerpt from review)
“Christine McNair’s Toxemia makes for harrowing reading. A memoir told in lyrical essays, prose poetry, photographs and more, this book takes the reader to the edge of life [….] I started with a vague sense that this was a story about complications from pregnancy. By the time I finished, I realized what an idiot I was — and I was drowned in respect for McNair for the numerous subtle turns, explanations, and descriptions she provides of multiple near death experiences and the mysterious, tenuous connections between cause and effect, especially as related to the fragility of life and the monstrous uncertainties that regulate (or not) the human body. [… ]The narrative is non-linear, looping back and forward, pulling in historical analysis and soaking in poetic reflection. These things happened. They put her life at risk. In past centuries, they killed many women. Modern medicine continues to find them mysterious. Narrative loose ends abound, as in this situation they must. The bottom line is life persists, the book was written. And it’s terrific. One line jumped out at me: “Every body survives something. Or they don’t.” Amen.” (excerpt from review)
My partner rob mclennan also wrote on Toxemia as part of his reading in the margins project on his Substack. He wanted to tackle it in a non-review way as he can’t really write on my work neutrally in other spaces as he could any other writer due to conflict of interest because spouse-love-life-adinfinitum. He gets what I mean when I say this in his piece: “I do see it as a poetic memoir rather than a book of pure poetry. Language is important to me in both prose and poetry and this book flexes between genres on purpose. Play can be found in prose, even non-fiction prose, even a memoir, even a health-historic-body-fueled memoir filled with tough things.”
As for my posts and such — I made a video that introduces Toxemia for the Book*hug YouTube channel made of some clips of the past few years, spliced together with my voice overlaid. A few snippets of time and space.
I also wrote a small list of recommended books for 49th shelf called A List for Lost Words that focuses on books that meant something to me when I was trying to make sense of the confusion of a difficult diagnosis.
And I pulled together a playlist of songs that I associate with the memoir in one way or another for the Book*hug blog. I may have spent far too much time on this and then cursed myself for not including things that I thought of later.
Earlier praise for Toxemia:
“Toxemia is simultaneously a history in/of medicine, a feminist rallying cry, and a raw but scalpel-sharp work of poetry. A genre-blurring text that boldly bloodies lines between poetic and reproductive bodies, between archive and lyric, between manifesto and song, between autoethnography and free verse. A bodypoem flex.” —Sarah de Leeuw, author of Lot
“How much pressure can build in language before the story of women’s health blows apart? In Toxemia, Christine McNair tests the narrative as if it were a problem patient. She charts the events that bring her close to death several times with the skill of the most intuitive midwives and rigorous clinicians, though representation is not diagnostic. This is a beautiful etiological study.” —Elee Kraljii Gardiner, author of Trauma Head and Against Death: 35 Essays on Living
“Toxemia is astonishing. It’s difficult to use positive adjectives for something so searing and widespread as toxicity in all its forms as it is portrayed in this book. But what can be said is that we need this book. We need ‘a pattern that is only legible’ to McNair. If nothing else, in this undetermined narrative, we may read our multiple selves, our own fragilities to systemic damage and unutterable forces beyond our control.” —Madhur Anand, Governor General’s Literary Award–winning author of This Red Line Goes Straight to Your Heart
UPCOMING EVENTS
FEB 28, 2025, VANCOUVER, BC: Off the Shelf Reading Series, details forthcoming.
MAY 2025, WINNIPEG, MB: Speaking Crow reading series, details forthcoming.
FALL 2025, WOLFVILLE, NS: details forthcoming
Hope to see some of you soon and hopeful to add more readings/events as they come up in 2025!
I’m excited to say that Toxemia, my hybrid poetic memoir is now out with Book*hug Press!
I’ll be doing a mini tour of sorts (details below) and am so grateful to Jay/Hazel/Reid/Gareth/Britt/Stuart/Laurie/all-all-all-all at Book*hug and to my editor Tanis MacDonald for all of the work in getting this book to press. Thanks as well too to Kate Sutherland for her use of her beautiful collage art for the cover. And to my family and friends for their never-ending support.
I’ve already had book launches in Picton, St. Catherines, Ottawa and Mississauga with forthcoming launches in Toronto, Hamilton, Kingston, Calgary, and Vancouver. I’m hoping to add a few more dates — in particular in the Maritimes and Winnipeg.
Praise for Toxemia:
“Toxemia is simultaneously a history in/of medicine, a feminist rallying cry, and a raw but scalpel-sharp work of poetry. A genre-blurring text that boldly bloodies lines between poetic and reproductive bodies, between archive and lyric, between manifesto and song, between autoethnography and free verse. A bodypoem flex.” —Sarah de Leeuw, author of Lot
“How much pressure can build in language before the story of women’s health blows apart? In Toxemia, Christine McNair tests the narrative as if it were a problem patient. She charts the events that bring her close to death several times with the skill of the most intuitive midwives and rigorous clinicians, though representation is not diagnostic. This is a beautiful etiological study.” —Elee Kraljii Gardiner, author of Trauma Head and Against Death: 35 Essays on Living
“Toxemia is astonishing. It’s difficult to use positive adjectives for something so searing and widespread as toxicity in all its forms as it is portrayed in this book. But what can be said is that we need this book. We need ‘a pattern that is only legible’ to McNair. If nothing else, in this undetermined narrative, we may read our multiple selves, our own fragilities to systemic damage and unutterable forces beyond our control.” —Madhur Anand, Governor General’s Literary Award–winning author of This Red Line Goes Straight to Your Heart
“Christine McNair’s second collection, Charm (Book*hug, 2017), brings dignity and awe to sensuality and impermanence. Fragility is experienced as strength as she examines motherhood, marriage, women’s bodies, alongside a longing for sovereignty. Both decay and intimacy reverberate throughout the collection, with deft, inventive and provocative uses of language and syntax. In Charm, McNair shows us unique truths in unexpected and mesmerizing ways, compelling our attention again and again.”
It was unexpected and involved a dizzy flight from Toronto to attend the awards ceremony then back again. I was lucky enough to read a couple months prior with the other shortlisted poets — Adele Graf (math for couples, Guernica Editions) and Shane Rhodes (Dead White Men, Coach House Books). Gratitude to my first readers (Rob, Sandy, Amy, Amanda) and my editor (Margaret Christakos) and Bookhug themselves (Jay and Hazel). Also gratitude to Kate Hargreaves who took my photo of a damaged wood panel painting and augmented the damage through to the titling. There was hesitation when I suggested the image to my publishers because of the madonna but I felt the resonance of the damage, the weirdness of the unicorn hunting (not quite on point for the typical use thereof) and the eyes hit me in the gut. So I was pleased when we ended up there in the end.
I feel lucky anyways. Embedded bit of good metal in the fingers.
I’ve also been remiss to note that I’ve been fortunate enough to have some reviews for Charm. Here are some places:
“Charm is a spell-caster of vivid turns and angles, whirling with McNair’s clever, dark humour. In this volume, she visits with a macro theme of care – for children, objects, and bewitchingly, language. It’s the vehicle of language, books, that reaps a compelling amount of attention.” —Elee Kraljii Gardiner, Poetry is Dead (review content not online)
“Christine McNair, tackles subjects of conception, from literal pregnancy to the more figurative conception of art. The poems hover around an overarching theme of making and unmaking, but their expansiveness allows for each to remain distinct and precise.” — Canadian Literature, “Charmed” by Andrea MacPherson.
“McNair uses a fragmentary, fractured line and crashing repetitions to suggest conception as a craft of its own sort of traumatic work.” —Jonathan Ball, Winnipeg Free Press
I did some readings. The spring launch for Bookhug in Toronto and then various Ottawa readings such as Ottawa Writers Festival (Plan99 event), VerseFest, the Tree Reading Series, Sawdust Reading series and some other little bits. I particularly enjoyed ripping apart a copy of my book at VerseFest.
rob and I were able to participate in a Queen Mob’s reading during my research trip to the UK (more below) and I also read as part of the Resonance series in Montreal. But I wish I could’ve read more outside of Ottawa, pushed a bit into some western or eastern provinces, closer to when my book is released. Ah well. Time, young kids, time.
I was fortunate enough to go to the UK where the primary purpose of my trip was to research a new writing project. Something mixed genre relating to pre-eclampsia. I’m not sure what it will be entirely yet but I was able to spend some time with 17th century midwifery handbooks and 19th century theories of ‘the disease of theories’. I find pre-e fascinating and terrifying beyond my personal connection to the disease.
Brilliant time in the reading room. Quiet but for the tip tapping of my keyboard. Book cradles & blissful research.
There was a beautiful launch in Toronto with a baker’s dozen other writers (almost) and then a launch in Ottawa at the Legion with Erin Robinsong and Jennifer Still.
There was a reading in Montreal as part of the Resonance reading series which was perfect. My first trip away from baby #2, sweet Aoife, who is now 18 months.
Which partially explains my remiss-miss. Along with various health issues subsequent to my second dose of pre-eclampsia. Postpartum pre-eclampsia at that. Threading that needle in the haystack.
I will be reading again in Ottawa soon — tomorrow on Saturday, October 21st, at the Manx (5pm, with novelists Michael Blouin and Barbara Sibbald), as part of the Ottawa International Writers Festival. A special Plan99 reading series event, hosted by David O’Meara.
Then later at the Tree Reading Series on Tuesday, November 14th along with Rhombus19, a sound poetry group from the University of Ottawa. Black Squirrel Books at 8pm with an open mic too. And there’s the tree workshop prior on (Multi)lingual Poetry with Manahil Bandukwala.
This year has provoked not-much, in the after recovery of the birth of my beautiful daughter. Soon to be one and I’m so happy to know her. Joyous in the face of her soon-to-be first birthday. But some floating anxiety over the illness that hit me after. A big truck. So there’s this. For what it’s worth.
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To shine forth – last year’s almost-end. Or almost-stroke. Or almost-seizure. Possible-failures: liver, kidneys. Now — increased risk of cardiovascular death. 2x more likely. Heart worn thin.
Dreaming in a mag sulphide haze of Margaret Kilgallen who died of cancer days after giving birth to her daughter. Her large scale letterforms eating up the sky. Her sly folk ladies with full ladles.
The winter outside and how it stormed and the trees carried with them all the cold. Thinking of wolves. The other babies in the ward crying as they were born and for milk. My milk coming in without Rose who couldn’t be with me. I’m compromised.
Daytime visitation only, except for the last night. Where we hovered and I shifted the baby so the nurses could check my blood pressure again. Again. Again.
Not permitted to walk. Not permitted to have bright lights. Not permitted to get up. No excessive stimuli. No stress (if possible). Limited visitors.
The pressures increasing. Reflexes so quick that I nearly kicked the ER doctor in the face. My stomach a teaching tool, displaying a reflex that shouldn’t exist. Indicative.
My mother nearly choking on a hard boiled egg while I pumped milk. The milk I sent home and the smell of formula in the baby’s spit up mixed in.
Both my parents visiting, waiting at the bedside. What is your blood pressure? What is it now? What is it now?
From the ER, how I wasn’t allowed to walk but instead was wheeled back into the maternity ward. Lights, then lights, then, lights in the hallway. Watching them and then considering that if I died there’d be nothing set up for my husband and the new baby. That nothing was safe for them. Irritated at the potential of dying for birthing. Irritated at my own privilege that my response is ‘irritation’ and ‘fear’ rather than ‘resignation’.
Before the ER, my limbs swell. I can’t catch up on sleep. When I wake up, I’m still tired and crying. This overwhelming sense of paralyzing dread. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Then the headaches. And the bright lights that wake me at 4am like being hit in the eyes with flashbulbs.
How easy it would have been to dismiss all this as exhaustion or postpartum depression. My grandmother’s heart disease misdiagnosed as depression. How everything felt crooked and aghast.
Random round-up of reviews, interviews, and other online novelties primarily relating to Conflict, dating from the recent to semi-recent. May update as I troll through the detritus of my memory to add more.
Reviews of Conflict (BookThug, 2012)
Review of Conflict by Meredith Darling, Matrix (summer 2013)
(no online link yet!)
A semi-coherent listing of my upcoming readings. Mostly relating to Conflict. A kind of belated touring. Primarily sprung with one confirmed ping in November. A few others are likely to pop up and/or in the works. We are busy pulling flowers up by their roots. The snow lies.
OTTAWA, ON: Sunday March 17, 2013 VerseFest: A World of Poetry in Ottawa
Christine McNair, Ken Babstock and Anne Simpson
Where: Mercury Lounge, 56 Byward Market Sq, Ottawa, 4:00 PM http://www.versefest.ca/2013/schedule/sunday/
TORONTO, ON: Wednesday April 10, 2013 Pivot Reading Series Christine McNair with Roseanne Carrara and Jessica Hiemstra.
Where: The Press Club, 850 Dundas Street West, Toronto, ON, 8:00 PM
Hosted by Jacob McArthur Mooney. http://pivotreadings.ca/
ST CATHARINES, ON: Friday April 26, 2013 In The Soil Arts Festival Presents Christine McNair and Mark Goldstein with other readers and musical guests: TBA
Where: Niagara Artists Centre, 354 St. Paul Street, St. Catharines, ON, 8:00 PM
Hosted by: Eric Schmaltz http://www.inthesoil.on.ca/
CALGARY, AB: Thursday May 9, 2013 filling Station’s Flywheel Reading Series presents Christine McNair, author of Conflict and Sandra Ridley with other readers TBA.
Where: Pages Books on Kensington, 1135 Kensington Road NW, Calgary, AB, 7:30 PM http://www.fillingstation.ca/flywheel
REGINA, SK: Monday May 13, 2013
Vertigo Reading Series presents Christine McNair, author of Conflict and Sandra Ridley with other readers TBA.
Where: Crave Kitchen + Wine Bar, 1925 Victoria Avenue, Regina, SK, 7:30 PM
Hosted by: Tara Dawn Solheim http://vertigoreadingseries.wordpress.com/
VANCOUVER, BC: Tuesday May 14, 2013 Real Vancouver Writers’ Reading Series presents Christine McNair and Sandra Ridley with other readers TBA.
Where: TBA, Vancouver, BC, 8:00 PM
Hosted by: Sean Cranbury http://realvancouverwriters.org/
ST. CATHARINES, ON: Saturday June 29, 2013 Niagara Literary Arts Festival Presents BookThug Author Night Featuring readings by: Mark Goldstein, Beatriz Hausner, Christine McNair, Shannon Maguire, David Dowker, bill bissett, Head Thug Jay Millar and more
Where: Mahtay Cafe, 241 St. Paul Street, St. Catharines, ON
Time: TBA PM http://nlaf.jigsy.com/
HAMILTON, ON: Sunday November 3, 2013 The LitLive Reading Series presents Christine McNair with other readers TBA
Where: The Homegrown Hamilton Cafe, on the 1st Floor of the Skydragon Centre, 27 King William Street, Hamilton, ON, 7:30 PM http://litlive.blogspot.ca/
CHRISTINE MCNAIR 