Fish for Dinner

Posted on March 24, 2025 by pujakins

Heartwings Love Notes: Fish for Dinner

by Tasha Halpert

Heartwings says, “There are good reasons to enjoy eating fish, regardless when.”

My dear late mother was usually faithful to her Catholic upbringing and observant of its rules. She was aware that eating fish on Fridays was what good Catholics did. So we did, often on Fridays. That was, of course, one of the rules. Her fear of the wrath of God for disobedience, was real, but did not extend to this most minor of transgressions if she didn’t happen to have fish on hand.

When it came to us children, she was one to invoke the fear of God in us for our transgressions, large or small. “God will punish you if…” was often on her tongue when some misbehavior was in question or perhaps in evidence. The nature of God’s punishment was left unspoken, so I was never sure what that might be.

On the other hand, there were punishments she herself imposed. Her chief one for me was my having to sit on the piano stool for anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour, after being “put on silence.” For major transgressions there was also the application of the less frequent but more physically painful back of the old fashioned wooden hairbrush to the rear end. Physical punishment has gone out of style these days. Depriving children of cell phones may have replaced it—a different sort of pain.

Eating fish, however, is still in style whenever it is eaten. For some, this recipe could be useful for the season of Lent, for anyone it’s a good all around the year way to cook fish. If you are or wish to be cooking dairy free, use coconut milk, not the kind that comes in cans, but that which is unflavored and on the shelf in cartons or the ‘fridge. My daughter remembers that years ago I used to use regular milk. I never bought fat free.

For a family of four, depending on appetites and preferences, plan on one and one half pounds of cod or haddock, or other firm white thick fish. Place it in a shallow baking dish and pour around a cup of milk over it to fully surround the fish. Bake at 350 around 25 to 35 minutes depending on the thickness of the fish. Fish is done when it flakes easily at the touch of a fork. Now or prior to start of cooking, as desired add seasonings such as thyme, tarragon, or your choice, salt, pepper, or garlic ground or powdered. Serve with one or two vegetables (example: orange squash and green beans) for color and texture variety.

Heartwings Love Notes 2049: My Personal Search

Posted on August 18, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “You won’t know what’s around the corner until you’re there.”

Life went on, my children grew and went to school, and I became a Yoga teacher. Like many important changes in my life, it happened serendipitously. With five children and a busy life, I was getting very stressed. Having trouble sleeping, I resorted to memorizing long poems, reciting them to try falling asleep. One day I mentioned this to a friend.

Several days later he gave me a book on Yoga by Richard Hittleman. Telling me it might help me relax, he said it had fallen into his hand the day after I had told him my plight. More serendipity! I studied the directions and followed the exercises. Soon I no longer needed to recite the long poems. I was falling asleep easily and sleeping soundly.

Sometime later a woman I knew announced she was teaching a Yoga class. Thrilled to have an instructor I eagerly signed up. Although it ended after twelve sessions, I continued my practice. Later on, as I was talking about Yoga with a friend; someone overheard me and invited me to go with her to a gathering of Yoga teachers and students in a nearby town. I jumped at the chance. The day we were to go, she had to cancel out.

Deciding to do it by myself, I drove to the address and found myself in a large room full of leotard clad women, none of whom I had ever met before. They all had Yoga mats! I didn’t. So I laid my coat on the floor and feeling glad to be there, followed the teacher’s instructions. At the end she led us in several chants. Something about them made me feel as though I had really come home.

As the session ended, I discovered she had a studio not far from where I lived. Immediately, I signed up for classes. At almost the same time, the wife of the minister asked me to teach a class at my church. The coincidence was very helpful because I learned at the studio and taught what I learned. Some years later, my teacher taught a teacher training class that enhanced my knowledge. Eventually she had me teach my own classes for her in various places.

Having been uncoordinated as a child, I found Yoga to be very useful for gaining physical skill and coordination. I also grew proud of my newfound abilities. Better still, in a year or two, my teacher opened a larger studio and had monthly gatherings of spiritual teachers. Asked to be on the welcoming committee, I was able to interact personally with many of them.

The long lasting practice of meditation that evolved from my study of yoga, as well as the wisdom I gained from the exposure to the many spiritual teachers she featured has been one of the most helpful experiences of my long life. While my journey had begun long before, it was given a gigantic boost by these two new additions.

To be continued

May you discover new helps to your journey.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

Comments, questions, suggestions? I so enjoy hearing from readers. Do write, please?

A poet and writer, I publish this free weekly blog, Heartwings Love Notes for a Joyous Life. My Books: Up to my Neck in Lemons, and Heartwings, Love Notes for a Joyous Life are available on Amazon. My latest publication available there is my first chapbook, Poems and Prayers, and I have two more in preparation. You can sign up for my blog below

Heartwings Love Notes 2048: A Worthwhile Treasure Part Two

Posted on August 13, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “When something is outgrown, it must be left behind.”

I continued to go to church with both my mother and my father, until I went to college. At that point I went only when I was home and the rest of the time, I didn’t think much about religion or spirituality. I was busy growing in other ways, and then I met and married my first husband. We started a family, and soon with two little girls to care for, I forgot about my pursuit of spiritual matters.

Then my husband fell asleep at the wheel as he was driving home one night and nearly was killed in an accident. All of a sudden, I felt an urge to return to church. Yet I did not feel good about attending my mother’s church or practicing her religion. It simply did not suit me any longer. Like the clothing handed down from my mother’s friends’ children that I had worn as a child, it no longer fit. I looked for one but didn’t and then we moved back from Rhode Island and the army base where my husband was stationed. I found myself able to attend my father’s Episcopal church and did so, singing in the choir and eventually teaching Sunday School. I felt as though I had come home.

Beginning with The Hero with a Thousand Faces, I read Joseph Campbell’s wonderful books on mythology. They broadened my view of spirituality and I continued to search for books that would help me learn and grow. Someone gave me Brother Lawrence’s Practice of the presence of God. I was quite taken with the idea and decided to incorporate his practice of the Presence of God into my own life. I began by imagining that God was present for me where ever I was.

Brother Lawrence also introduced me to the idea that any kind of work could be a form of prayer. Until then I had associated prayer primarily with church, bedtime, and emergencies.

Over many years I have come to understand more about the practice of work as a form of worship as well as of spiritual growth. Here is a tale that says more about that. This Hindu legend tells of an advanced student of spiritual wisdom who was sent by his master to visit a renowned teacher on the other side of a forest. He grew weary, sat under a tree and fell asleep. The twittering of birds woke him. Angrily he raised his hands and sent a bolt of energy at them. They fell senseless to the ground. He continued to the hut of the teacher and knocked on the door. No one answered. He tried again. Someone was moving about inside. “Anyone there?” he called out impatiently and knocked a third time.

“Young man,” came a voice from within, “I am only an old woman who has lived all my life here in the forest. You have studied great books, and you are even strong enough to knock the birds from the tree, but you will have to be patient with me. I am getting to the door as fast as I can.” The young man caught his breath. How could she possibly know what he had done in the forest? Realizing how much he still had to learn, he bowed his head and sighed.

Over many years, my understanding of this practice changed. Now I feel it is always possible to be in the presence of God. If, as Brother Lawrence teaches, God is present everywhere in all people and things. How ever could I not be in that presence. Most think of prayer as a statement, in the form of a petition or perhaps a combination of praise and gratitude. For me prayer has become an underlying theme so that I frequently express my gratitude. Also, when a friend comes to mind, I bless him or her and send light to whatever situation he or she might be in.

May you find help on your path to light when and where you need it.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

To be Continued

A poet and writer, I publish a free weekly blog, Heartwings Love Notes for a Joyous Life. My Books: Up to my Neck in Lemons, and Heartwings, Love Notes for a Joyous Life are available on Amazon. My latest publication available there is my first chapbook, Poems and Prayers, and I have two more in preparation. You can sign up for my blog at http://tashasperspective.com.

Heartwings Love Notes 2047: A Treasure worth Seeking, Part One

Posted on August 4, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “A journey of discovery is fun to share, regardless the goal.”

The search for God by whatever definition has always been an important part of my life. Over time it has revolved around the various interpretations of that word. My parents, as well as Emily, my first caregiver and a practical nurse I spent a lot of time with, were all traditionally religious. By traditionally I mean they went to church on Sundays and followed the mainstream Christian beliefs. They were not dogmatic or “born again” Christians, although my mother had a rather grim view of God. She often said, “God will punish you if you… so I thought that might be something important to avoid.

I learned about the Divine at an early age. Told to say my simple “God bless” prayers, following, “Now I lay me down to sleep…” in my mind I prayed to a kind of big parent in the sky, for that was how I thought of God. At around five, I began attending church. My mother, a devout Catholic went every Sunday and took me with her. The benches we sat on were hard, the ones we knelt on were very hard, and the prayers were mostly in Latin. I preferred my dad’s Episcopalian church, where I got to sing hymns and there were cushions to kneel on. I was able to enjoy it when on special holidays like Christmas and Easter, my mother and I attended both churches, although I believe my mother was unsure it was alright with “her” God to do so.

Once I learned to read, I used to look for books to read on the family’s bookshelves. On a bottom shelf of an upstairs bookcase, I was drawn to an old Bible in the hall. I have a vivid memory of sitting on the floor under the skylight, reading the tissue thin pages and wondering at the images described in them. I found the pages fascinating; I was especially drawn to the colorful descriptions in Revelations. My father’s childhood book of Biblical parables, with steel engraved illustrations was another favorite of mine. The stories were so interesting, and the large pages held my interest.

When I was seven or eight, I created my own church, just for me, in an outer corner of a small, old, greenhouse shed between the wall and the chimney. I gathered moss to kneel on, made a brick for the alter and placed a cross made of twigs upon it. I drew stained glass windows on the wooden panels of the shed wall with chalk. On the other side I made a small Cemetary where I put the animals I found to bury-a cat that had died, some ducklings, and a bird or two. When I felt the need, I would go to my church, kneel on the moss, and take my troubles to God. Somehow it seemed natural to do so.

May you enjoy happy memories of your own personal history and share them when you wish.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS I welcome comments and hope you will email me with them.

Heartwings Love Notes 2040: Gifts My Father Gave Me

Posted on June 16, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Gifts may be actual and not physical, either or both.”

It’s time to celebrate fathers, and I have been thinking about my dad and how special he was to me, and also to the many people who appreciated his witty behavior. He loved to be entertaining as well as to entertain. Cocktail parties were his chief delight and he gave them often.

He was a generous person. One memory I have is of him sitting by the living room fireplace at Christmas time, wrapping the generous gifts he gave to the gardeners and caretakers of the estates he did business with. He was a horticulturist by nature, like his grandfather, and professionally, an arborist. He truly enjoyed his work and he was very good at it, able to size up a landscape and improve the views from the windows of the any home he was hired to work for.

One special gift he gave me was a love of trees plus the ability to spot what they might need done to improve them. He often took me with him, especially in the summer, when he drove around either supervising his men where they were working or estimating the work to be done for those who had hired him and the company he worked for. As I travel the roads of my town and its neighbors, to this day, I notice trees and find myself thinking of their needs.

He loved flowers and grew beautiful roses. I wish I had inherited that ability. My efforts to grow them have not met with success. I did inherit his love for flowers, buying them to bring their loveliness into my home when I can. My mother once told me that when they were newly married and he was an aspiring playwright, Daddy would spend the grocery money on flowers leaving them forced to have oatmeal to eat for supper. On special occasions, he would often provide my mother and me with corsages. She would get an orchid, while I got a fragrant gardenia, which I loved.

Above all, he was generous with his time and energy, serving in a volunteer capacity as treasurer to a variety of local organizations. He read for the blind on a local radio station, and I’m sure did other kind actions I never knew about. He was deeply religious, attended his Episcopalian church every Sunday, and took us to services on Christmas and Easter, which I loved, another significant gift.

No one is perfect. Neither was he. But the gifts he gave me far outweigh any negative aspects of his character. He set me an important example of the importance of being of service that has increasingly guided my life. Working on behalf of the greater good is what I call it. It’s about showing up for a need. Whether caring for the landscape or for the world at large, my father set a fine example.

May you remember your fathers’ gifts with joy.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Please, if you have stories to share, write to me and share them. I so enjoy hearing from my readers. Email me at tashahal, at Gmail.com, and check out my blog at http://tashasperspective.com.

Heartwings Love Notes 2032 Learn by Doing it Wrong

Posted on April 14, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “If the cook enjoys the cooking, the food often tastes better.”

As any of my long-time readers know, I had to teach myself to cook. My mother didn’t like to and didn’t really want me in the kitchen. She lacked the patience to teach me and was usually too busy with my three younger siblings to have the time to do much besides put simple meals on the table. She hadn’t learned to cook from her mother, having grown up with a father in the diplomatic service, so that servants were a necessity.

As a new bride, with cookbook in hand, I set out to feed my new husband. I made some simple mistakes, and soon learned from them. Some of them were good learning experiences. One of my first was the belief that we ought to have meat at least twice a day, at both lunch and dinner. My husband’s ROTC salary was small and had to cover all our living expenses, so we ate a lot of the cheapest meat I could find, which was hot dogs.

We ate a lot of them, boiled, as my mother had cooked them. Fortunately, my new husband was fine with that, and as we were only eighteen and twenty, we did just fine on our simple diet. Our new baby daughter ate along with us. To save money, I began experimenting and soon learned to make casseroles. Our family grew and so did my range of expertise. My husband preferred simple meat and potatoes meals. My two little girls liked casseroles, and that was encouraging. My sons imitated their father. However, I instituted a “three bite” rule. They learned not to automatically reject what I served.

Baking came later. I spent a long time learning to make good muffins. The mixes available were not very good, and frankly, I’ve never wanted to use a mix if I could use my own ingredients. My early muffins suffered from my attempts at baking cakes. Lots of beating is the standard for good cakes. Quite the contrary for muffins. After many batches of non-rising, tough, though edible muffins, I finally found this out.

As the years have gone by, I have also had other important lessons. For instance, there is a type of pie pan made with holes in the bottom that is meant only for baking the crust of a pie to be filled after it has been baked. I learned this when as I was sitting with my dinner guests, the blueberry pie filling I had put into the unbaked pie shell began dripping onto the floor of the oven. This was a shock. Fortunately, my guests were understanding.

Cooking is both a science and an art. Even as a child, I enjoyed it, though I am the only one in my birth family to do so. Once, I contemplated making a mud pie cookbook. As an adult I wrote two simple cookbooks: one for cookies, one when we became sugar free and vegetarian.

May you enjoy your adventures with food.”

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

P.S. Do you have recipes or cooking adventures to share? Please do let me know what you know, I so enjoy hearing from readers. Please write me by hitting reply. Sign up at my blog for more at https://tashasperspective.com/Pujakins.

Heartwings Love Notes: Eggs and Easter Memories

Posted on April 1, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Like Easter, Eggs are symbols of beginnings and renewal, the essence of spring.”

My father was attuned to all things that concerned or had to do with nature. His grandfather was an amateur horticulturist, who may have been his first teacher. Though he never studied horticulture or took classes as far as I know, he had a broad interest in plants and trees. He also kept chickens, and we always had plenty of fresh eggs, as well as chicken to eat. I can still see my mother, standing by the sink, plucking the feathers from the younger chicken she was roasting for dinner, or from the elderly fowl, no longer laying eggs, that was headed for soup.

During World War II many things were scarce, eggs among them. We had plenty to share, so daddy would often sell a dozen eggs to people he knew, receiving whatever he charged for them to defray the cost of the grain and mash he fed the layers. I can remember him once, laughing over a rather rude response he got from one customer, an acquaintance, who told him to go around to the back with his delivery. He didn’t take it to heart, because he had a good sense of humor. I was often called upon to feed and water the hens, and I received a small allowance—fifty cents a week, for doing so.

What brought all this to mind was the fact that this weekend it’s Easter, and eggs are an important symbol of the holiday, as well as a prominent feature. One year, as I recall we had so many eggs, my mother and father decided to hold an Easter egg hunt. I helped color the eggs, but was not allowed to participate in the hunt. I remember looking wistfully out the window from the second floor of our home as the invited children of friends scurried around, discovering the hiding places of the eggs. The adults were probably enjoying cocktails and snacks, as they often did at gatherings my dad hosted.

Besides eggs, Easter in my household meant flowers, both corsages for my mother and for me, and flowers in vases and plants in pots for the house. It also meant wearing hats in church. I recall a straw hat with a broad, turned up brim. It had a wide blue grosgrain ribbon that went around the crown and hung down in the back, descending from a bow. We attended two services, first my mother’s Catholic one, then my father’s Episcopalian one, which I loved. There was singing of familiar hymns—we sang one or two of them each morning at my school’s morning meetings, plus the service’s words were in English. Even better, there were cushions to kneel on instead of the hard wooden benches of my mother’s church. Happily, there was a geranium for me and every other child there, to take home after the service was over. Such spring symbols bring the assurance that the old is passing away and the new is here.

May you find your heart renewed by spring’s symbols.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS If you have any Easter stories, please send them along, I love hearing from you. You can write me at tashahal@gmail.com. Sign up for more Love Notes at my blog, found at https://tashasperspective.com/Pujakins

Heartwings Love Notes 2023 Love is the Answer

Posted on February 12, 2024 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Love is alive when another is cherished with loving acts.”

Earlier in this lifetime, at the age of eighteen, I met my children’s father. It was at a dance in February, a week or so before Valentines’ Day. I was quite taken by his good looks and ardent personality. Wanting to send him a valentine card, I checked out several stores that sold them. To my dismay, none of them had any valentines I liked.

In desperation, not wanting the day to pass without some token of affection, I purchased a humorous one. Unfortunately, I didn’t pay enough attention to what the comment said. My sending that card almost ended the relationship right then. After all these years I do not recall the words, only what happened. Fortunately, my new boyfriend and eventual first husband had a good sense of humor, and soon we both ended up laughing at my gaffe.

Long ago there was a tradition of snide or uncomplimentary valentine cards. Less popular today, they seem to be almost altogether a relic of the past. My home town of Grafton is close to Worcester, the city that claims to be the manufacturer of the first US Valentines. This was around 1800, and continued onward, the cards becoming more elaborate and even more popular when postal rates went down. Comic, or vinegar valentines such as the one I ended by using, were first created in 1870 by John McLoughlin a New York printer. They sold for a penny and were sometime called penny dreadfuls.

It is on Valentine’s Day that the second most cards are sent, Christmas being the first. At one time I made all my own valentines, and took great pleasure in doing so. When I was in grade school, we exchanged simple, inexpensive valentine cards, and often the teacher brought in cookies, often heart shaped or with frosting. My mother discouraged sugary sweets, so that was a treat to remember.

In this world of grim news and tragedy, love of every kind is even more important than ever, and a day devoted even principally to romantic love is special for its message. However, more than that, love is the answer to many situations and questions, especially “what can we do?”

Sending and receiving love of all kinds is vital to help change the world to a kinder, friendlier, more compassionate place to be. The more love that is expressed, accepting, filial, amorous, healing, and more, the less there will be of its opposite: judging, shunning, ignoring, disapproving, and more.

A wise teacher of mine once told me, “You don’t have to like everyone, but you must love everyone.” This may be difficult to do, especially with those individuals who seem to be bent on destructive behavior, yet one can feel compassion for them, one can wish them to wake up and change. Love, in whatever form is often the answer to many difficult situations, and a day devoted to it is a joy to the heart, whether or not any valentines are sent.

May you honor Valentines Day however you wish, with love.

Blessings and best regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you have any reminiscences to share or happy memories of valentines? I would love to hear about them. Readers’ email is a joy to my heart. Check out my blog at http://tashasperspective at Pujakins/from the poets heart. You can read past Love Notes there and sign up to receive them weekly in your in box.

Heartwings Love Notes 2010:Cloudy Days Can Be Helpful

Posted on November 12, 2023 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Weathering the days is an art to be practiced,”

Do you sigh and or feel disappointed when you raise the shades in the morning and see clouds? Do you wish for sunshine instead? It’s normal for many to do so. However, it is also possible to see the clouds as a blessing. Were the bright sun to shine down relentlessly, it would soon dry up the world we live in and we would be begging for the relief of cloudy days. Even a desert environment experiences clouds and occasional rain.

I remember reading a tale years ago where someone loved Sundays because he didn’t have to work then. He wished for a month of Sundays and soon became tired of doing nothing. Variety is the spice of life and without it, life becomes monotonous, even tedious. Cloudy days can give us an opportunity to pause and think again, to be able to rest from some tasks and pursue others.

These days are like opportunities to pause and think about whether whatever direction we are headed in is correct. I had an experience once that convinced me of the value of pausing when I didn’t know what to do.

As luck would have it, I was in New York City after a performance of a sacred drama in a church. I needed to get back home and wasn’t sure how to proceed, as the arrangements I originally made had fallen through. I was at the church where the group I was with had performed. Over the next hour or so I observed colorfully dressed people of all nationalities climb the steps where I lingered. I truly did not know what to do next, so I just waited there, allowing the time to pass without deep concern but with confidence.

The experience was not unlike having a cloudy day when sunshine had been expected. After a time, I heard someone say “Hello,” and turned to look. It was a woman who had, like me, taken part in the performance. I shared my predicament with her. Fortunately, she told me she would be headed in my direction and said she would be happy to give me a ride. She was delighted when I offered to pay for part of her gas. We had a pleasant ride and she dropped me off at a train station near my home town so I could complete my journey.

The value of waiting quietly, without expectation, when there is no clear path ahead has been proven to me over and over. When I am patient, when I am willing to trust that a good solution will emerge for me, I am rewarded with that. When I have tried to take the wheel myself, and forge ahead in some direction I want to go, without inner guidance, I usually if not always have been sorry afterward. Trusting in the correctness of one’s direction is a major opportunity to follow the most opportune way to proceed. Experience also helps.

May you have the patience to wait for the right guidance to proceed.

Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert

PS Do you, dear reader, have a story to tell or an experience to share? Comments are always so welcome. Please make my day and write to me at my email address: tashahal@gmail.com, or if you like sign up to receive my blog weekly at https://tashasperspective.com/pujakins.

Heartwings Love Notes 1091: Birthdays are Timely Occasions

Posted on July 1, 2023 by pujakins

Heartwings says, “Years can seem like weeks when memories cluster together.”

Our country has been celebrating its birthday on July fourth for quite a long time now. In three more years, it will be the two hundred and fiftieth birthday of the United States of America. While the first celebration was actually in 1777, it took time to catch on, and catch on it did. In the 1800s celebrations were widespread. Now, of course it is common and even commercialized.

The time passes so quickly now, it was only a few years ago that we celebrated the two hundredth, or so it seems to me. For me, that holiday has always been filled with memories. I recall the wonderful parades that marched past our home in the town in Massachusetts where the children’s father and I raised our family. I have happy memories of the occasion as one for a gathering of townspeople later that day in the afternoon, with games and races for all ages.

My children participated in all the events and often won them, being well coordinated and athletic, unlike their mother. Unfortunately for me they always insisted I run in the tired mothers’ race—as it was called. Never having been much of a runner, I almost always came in last, but they were proud of me anyway. There was a children’s parade as well, and of course costumes to be cobbled together and happy faces as my family marched with the other children.

I remember as a youngster attending the fireworks held at the beach in her town, with my grandmother. We sat on the sand, watching the set pieces that had been attached to a wooden pier that jutted out into the water. It was a special and cherished experience. Nowadays I usually watch the fireworks on television listening to music. When I lived in Virginia, together with friends and a few thousand others, I got to see the fireworks over the Capitol—a most remarkable display.

Because Stephen’s birthday falls the day before on the third, we celebrate for several days, including the fifth, which is our wedding anniversary. We usually have a party with friends and when we had our inner peace center, we often had some who came from afar and tented in the back yard. July fourth has been a special day for me for as long as I can remember.

As we get older, the years seem to go by faster and faster. While this is surely an illusion, it is a very real experience. The celebrations of memory, with my children in costumes, parading along with others, seem just a few moments from my time with my grandmother and a few more from the parties we called Three Days of Peace and Love—July 3, 4, and 5, with tents on the lawn. Presently, our celebrations of these special days are quieter, and we will not be seeing live fireworks, however they will be just as special as they have always been, in their own way.

May you enjoy your celebration with those you love.

Blessings and Best Regards, Tasha Halpert

P.S. How do you celebrate the Fourth? Share with me if you like, I so enjoy the stories you do. Write me at tashahal@gmail.com.