Winding Down on Rhodes

Today marks our 23rd and final day on Rhodes Island, Greece. Tomorrow we will board a plane for Athens, where we will spend our Malentine's Day, and meet my sister April for more Greek travel.

Here's some final pictures from today and yesterday.

Photos

Rhodes Town Day 9

Rhodes Town Day 10

One Month, aka "Wish You Were Here" Vol. I

Today marks exactly one month on the road for Chris and I.

I've been trying all day to think of the perfect philosophical and meaningful "one month" blog post.

But in a moment of serendipity, an idea struck me.

So here's the first installment of "Wish You Were Here."



And then of course, the oldies but goodies...

Photos

Rhodes Day 8

Videos

Rhodes Day 8

Christopher's Confessional - "Fast Food"

I know it's totally unacceptable to say anything positive about McDonald's these days. But the best birthday parties when I was a tyke were at McDonald's; nothing else even came close. Sorry Showbiz Pizza, sorry Chucky Cheese, sorry Malibu Grand Prix (does anyone remember that place?).

I'm not talking about my own birthday parties (though I did have one at McDonald's). I'm specifically talking about all the other kids' birthday parties I attended. Dozens in my childhood. And each one better than the last.

Why? The reasons are threefold.

1. McDonald's Chicken McNugget Happy Meal. I don't know what the happy meals are like today, but this thing was legalized kiddie crack in my day. I still don't know what the nuggets are made of and it doesn't matter anymore because I don't eat at McDonald's. But I can tell you for sure that if my kid ever eats one he/she will be hooked like I was. And as addictive as the nuggets were, the fries were ten times more habit-forming. Then there was the coveted toy surprise inside (which meant that at every McDonald's birthday party I got a toy of my own). This is how McDonald's really pulled ahead of the pack in our minds. "Showbiz and Chucky Cheese have pizza and video games, but at McDonald's we get a toy even when it isn't our birthday," was how our little brains reasoned. And as a kid, didn't it kind of suck watching the lucky birthday jerk get a bunch of toys that weren't yours? Not at McDonald's.

2. The Balls. Other places had ball pits, but not like McDonald's. McDonald's had a slide going into the ball pit. I remember that this was crucial. A ball pit just wasn't as fun if you couldn't crash into it at high speed. Plus, we would take our toys with us and drop them down the slide into the ball pit. This was also crucial. Dropping the new happy meal toy down the slide into the ball pit at a McDonald's birthday party was one of the most exhilarating things a five-year-old could do in the American suburbs of my youth.

3. The Fantasy World. Chucky Cheese is a friendly rat, but he's still just a big honking rat (not cool). The animatronic band at Showbiz Pizza scared the crap out of me (especially the hulking gorilla keyboard player). And Malibu didn't have any fantasy characters at all. The characters that every kid was wild for were Grimace, the Hamburglar and good old Ronald. Every once in a while some weird kid would claim that Mayor McCheese was his favorite, but nobody would believe him. Nobody really cared about Mayor McCheese and we all knew it. The fat purple thing, the criminal and their pale ringleader were the ones that we all loved. We looked forward to seeing them on TV commercials and we especially looked forward to seeing them on the delicious McDonald's birthday sheet cake. And right next to the ball pit stood life-sized fiberglass statues of the big three themselves, which we would have climbed on all day if our parents would have let us.

I haven't eaten at McDonald's in years. When I became too old to care about the toy prize and the ball pit it was over for me. I know adults who still eat there, but the only reason I would go back would be to recapture a piece of those vivid, colorful, happy birthday parties. I certainly don't like the food anymore and I don't like what decades of bad food like McDonald's have done to the health of Americans I care for.

But there was a time in my life when nothing was more exciting than the simple pleasure of a happy meal with friends.

Pow-pow, another confession confessed. This is getting easier!

NEXT TIME ON CHRISTOPHER'S CONFESSIONAL: "Offside?"

Signs You Are Not Getting Enough Sleep at Night

What are the warning signs that you're not getting enough sleep at night?

1. Sudden, unexplainable irritation with your spouse

2. Falling asleep in the middle of the day

3. Downloading 251 podcasts and listening to half of them before breakfast

4. Hallucinating a mob of giant, angry pumpkins are chasing you down the street

5. The waitress at the local internet cafe knows at 1 am just what you're going to order

I have to admit, I can check off 4 of these (I'll let you guess which ones).

I don't know why, but every now and again I have terrible patterns of insomnia. It's not that I'm not tired or sleepy, it's just that my brain won't turn off. As soon as it's time to sleep, my brain decides it's time to save the world. From what, I'm not sure.

Anyone that has ever experienced insomnia knows how frustrating it can be. Especially if you're not in your own home with your own comforts and have to improvise with foreign materials to help lull you to sleep.

For me, those new foreign items are podcasts and internet cafes. I average about 2-3 hours of pod listening a night, and spend about 3 hours in cafes working on the internet.

Back home, I would put a FRIENDS DVD on and be asleep in about 15 minutes. I don't have that luxury here. (I know, I know - woe is me on my beautiful Greek island.)

Please don't email me and tell me to try exercise, or less caffeine, or no naps, or warm milk, or a sound machine, or pillows made of fairy dust...none of that works.

When a pattern of insomnia starts for me, there's nothing to do but ride it out and make the most of it.

I've learned a lot these last few nights about Charlemagne, facial transplants, Archemides, the Obama's new dog, mountain climbing, and Ponzi schemes.

I've resolved myself to not sleeping. I'm not going to try to fight it. If my brain wants to spend the night trying to save the world, so be it. There's worse fates I'm sure.

Like actually being chased down the street by a mob of angry pumpkins.

Christopher's Confessional - "College Athletics"

I'm tossing a lateral here. This post will not contain any travel anecdotes or hilariously named toy products.

Instead, I want you to come close to your computer screen. Closer.

Closer still.

The time has come to unburden myself. I have a confession to make. This isn't easy for me to do, so I'm just going to rip off the band-aid and get it over with.

Okay, here goes... (deep breath):



OOhhhh, God. That felt good. Whew! It's like I just took off a twenty-pound wool mascot costume. What a relief to get that off my back.

Remember when I was watching a college sporting event with you on TV and I was all "WHOA! Did you see that catch/shot/pass? I care so much about this college sporting event you guys!"

I was totally lying.

It's just there were a bunch of your friends around and they seemed to really genuinely be interested in the game, and one of them was even wearing a jersey (which I was so jealous of at the time even though I don't care about the team at all, I just thought it would be easier to seem like I cared if I had thought to wear a jersey).

The truth is, I don't know anything about any of the players on the team because I don't care about a single 20 year old dude in the whole world enough to learn even one thing about even one of them. I mean, I guess they seem okay. For a bunch of dudes playing college sports, which I could not possibly care less about.

You team has an incredibly storied history? Yeah, I just can't even raise one tiny spark of energy to care about that. You know what else has a storied history? Everything that has ever existed for more than twenty years. I'm just saying.

Don't worry, I'm not going to recount the storied history of office furniture or the printing press after I get a few beers in me. Do me the same favor is all I'm saying, okay?

Your tailgate party? No, I DEFINITELY want to still come to the tailgate, man! It's a great time and I especially like how I have an automatic topic of conversation anytime I run out of stuff to say inbetween bites of hot wings and sips of warm beer ("Man, the other team that our team is playing against today really sucks, right? Am I right?").

Can we still be friends? No? Look, I'm sorry. I tried to care about the athletic department of the school your Dad went to and which you attended for three semesters.

Yes, I'll still fill out a Final Four bracket with you. It will just be a little different for us next time, because we'll both know that I'm choosing my winners based on which school names sound funniest to me in pig latin. So, I mean, you can count on Wake Forest to be one of my perennial favorites.

So really, not much is going to change for us. Oh, um, well...there is one more thing.

I was lying when I said it was "ridiculously sweet" that you named your dog after your team. I actually think it's kind of like if I named my goldfish after my favorite department store, which wouldn't be um... "ridiculously sweet." That doesn't change the way I feel about your dog, your dog and I are totally cool.

Actually, on second thought, Dillards the goldfish is sounding half-decent to me. So I'm just downgrading your dog's name to half-decent is all.

NEXT TIME ON CHRISTOPHER'S CONFESSIONAL: "Fast Food"

Rhodes Town Days 1 & 3

Faliraki



Rhodes Town





The difference is cause for celebration.

The first day we just relished in being in a town that is alive.



Today we explored the Old Town of Rhodes.





We are still happy, healthy and eager to keep seeing more of Greece.

Photos

Rhodes Town Day 1

Rhodes Town Day 3

Bathing in the Sun - by Christopher

Every summer I blind dozens of innocent people. I do it with my pearly white belly. But this summer, I'm really working on it. If you can consider this work:



The truth is, it does kind of end up feeling like work. I have to re-apply sunblock every twenty minutes or so because I burn so quickly and thoroughly.

Then there's all the flipping and adjusting. And on top of that, sometimes I remember the job I used to have in Turkey and it takes a couple of annoying moments before I can think about something more pleasant. Like sunbathing in Greece.

I'm kidding, sunbathing isn't like work at all for me. Sarah and I just lay there like toads and listen to our podcasts and talk about how friendly the Greeks are and how much we like our lives right now.



But we did find one gentleman for whom sunbathing is work. This gentleman.



In the beginning, he looked like this; a typical elderly sunbather. We expected him to disrobe to his swimsuit like his goodly wife already had and position himself to soak up the rays.

But he had a different plan:



Not only did he keep his clothes on, he augmented his shorts with a hotel towel and then COMPLETELY COVERED HIMSELF WITH A SEAT CUSHION.

Now, his wife is on the other side of that cushion, so UV rays might not be the only thing he's protecting himself from. Even so, this guy clearly turned sunbathing into work.

I asked Sarah why he bothered to come outside at all. She told me she thought that maybe his wife wanted to sunbathe and he didn't want to, but he still wanted to be with his wife anyway.

She puts kind of a sweet spin on things when she wants to, doesn't she?

My thought was, based on how actively the old dog was scanning the topless female population around us, that perhaps spending the day under a towel and a seat cushion to be near his wife of 200 years wasn't his primary motivation.

I put kind of a creepy spin on things when I want to, don't I?

I'll leave you with this image of him, after most of the nearby sunbathers had cleared out and with one final thought:

I hope all of us can be this unselfconscious when we're in diapers again.

Fleeing Faliraki

There are many advantages to traveling in the off-season; lower hotel prices, less crowds, and more vacancies.
So far, we've had great luck encountering all these advantages.

And then came Faliraki.

Imagine a great hurricane hits South Padre Island. No wait, build 7 strip clubs, 2 sex shops and a club called "Pandora's Box", then imagine a great hurricane makes landfall.

Then, imagine no one is allowed to clean up anything. Grass is left to grow as tall as it wants. Glass is left littering the beach and sidewalks. Buildings are boarded up, signs are hanging sideways from their metal poles. Good time roller coasters and bungee rides and ferris wheels are all left out to rust and slowly rock in the sea winds.

Now you have an idea of Faliraki in the off-season.

We chose Faliraki because of all the beach resort hype, but alas, we were one week too early (or so we're told).

The city was a ghost town. There was no one around, no where to eat, nothing to do but walk the streets and whisper "where is everyone?".

I remember when April and I visited Costa Rica (neither of us with more than probably $200 to our name) and we stayed in a "hotel" that required sleeping with the lights on so that we could keep an eye on all the cockroaches and their routes around our room.

I hadn't thought about that "hotel" room until Chris asked me yesterday if this was the worst hotel room I had ever stayed in. Roseberry Suites doesn't win the prize, but it does rank in the top 3.



I tried so hard to be positive about the whole experience, but the only scenery to photograph was this:



I opted to try to take a series of photos entitled "Flowers of Faliraki."






Pretty right?

What you're not seeing is the Sex Shop called "Darkest Desires" and the hotel pools full of green water and empty beer cans. If Rhodes is a house, Faliraki in the off-season is the inside of the toilet bowl.

After walking the town we went back to the room and tried to lose ourselves in some downloaded TV shows.

What the above hotel video doesn't do justice to is the attack of mosquitos that started about 3 hours later. We have video of that, but as Chris is in his underwears, we decided not to post it (I know, I know...maybe another day).

Chris took a towel and whacked to death about 15 or 20 mosquitos in like a 5 minute time frame. It was real gross.

At about 9 pm I rolled over on my side and asked Chris if we could leave.

c: "Where would we go?"

s: "I don't know."

c: "Okay."

That's how bad it was.

We walked outside, found a cab, and asked the driver to drive us to Rhodes Town and drop us off at a hotel he trusted to not have mosquitos.

And thus we ended our 7 hour off-season Faliraki adventure. We are not Faliraki jockies.

Happy Easter, Again

Unbeknownst to Chris and I, the Greek Orthodox Easter is celebrated on a different date than the Christian Easter.

I realized this Saturday night at about midnight when the sound of fireworks startled me out of bed.

The actual Easter festival begins on Good Friday and people go to the churches to see how the priests and monk's take down the icon of Christ off the cross, wrap it in linen and put it in a great casket covered in flowers symbolizing the tomb of Christ. Then the bier is taken through the town or village, with people lamenting the death of Christ.

On Saturday everyone goes to church late in the evening, carrying with them unlit candles. At midnight the priest announces the resurrection of Christ ("Christos anesti") and lets the people light their candles of the Holy Flame taken from Christ's nativity cave in Jerusalem. As everybody does this fireworks and crackers go off and the dark night is filled with light from the candles. After this, everybody goes home for a meal - the fast is over. If their candles are still burning, a cross is made in the doorway with the soot, to protect the house for the coming year.

On Easter Sunday friends and family gather in homes, eating lamb on the spit and dyed eggs. Before the red eggs are eaten, however, you must crack them against your neighbours, and whoever wins by having a whole egg at the end, will get all the luck.

So...Chris and I got to celebrate Easter #2, Greek Orthodox style.






Today we are leaving Ixia and moving across the island to a town called Faliraki. We will stay there for the remainder of the month before meeting April (who turns 28 today-happy birthday April!) in Athens.

Hope everyone had a lovely Spring weekend.

The Local Toy Shoppe - by Christopher

Around the corner from the resort we've been staying in for the last two weeks is a surprisingly gigantic toy store. Surprising because it's by far the largest store of any type that we've seen on the island. Sarah and I spent nearly an hour walking the aisles. And not because we wanted to buy toys.

Few things in life give me a good laugh like Engrish does.

Engrish is a slang term for the kind of ridiculously translated English that gets printed on cheap Asian merchandise. It's also the kind of English I grew up enjoying in dozens of NES games. As a kid, I thought I was discovering some kind of video game programmer secret code.

Sarah shot as many of the products as she could. Each example has a very unique story to tell us. Let's take a look at our first offering:



Whoa! A toy orbital sander! Exclamation point! But I'm kind of worried about it's safety. I wish there was something here to reassure me...



Now I feel better.



Little girls or "sweeting babies" as typical english speakers refer to them, love baby dolls and baby doll playsets.



But this bizarrely named "Balneal Set" goes one step further by making a lot of promises right on the top of the box about the complex emotions of security your "sweeting baby" will feel for it.



And for your daughter's next birthday, why not get a baby doll beaten profusely with the ugly stick? This "lovely pet" is sure to spread it's glum look straight to your child's face!



The Beauty Set, huh? I think my daughter will like it. But there's so many pieces and parts; it could be a little confusing for her. Are there any details on the box to help us out?



Oops! The instructions were written for people in a different dimension of reality. Honest mistake.



This workbench has got it all: hand tools, drill press and brains (not pictured). Offering hope for parents with dim children. Oh well, it's probably an exciting workbench at least.



Or not so exciting. The marketers were like, "The best way to sell the 'fun' of the workbench is to put a comatose, sleepwalking zombie child on the front of the box." And the toymakers were like, "We are intelligent and discerning. This idea is like a brilliant laser beam of brilliance." And the marketers were like, "Then you're going to love our next idea:"



"Let's just type gibberish into BabelFish and print whatever comes out right above the picture of the zombie child." And the toymakers were like, "We just wish we had bigger thumbs so we could give your ideas a bigger thumb's up."



Here's what appears to be another run-of-the-mill Juice Extractor Set. But this product has some features that really set it apart from the rest of the Juice Extractor Sets out there. For example:



Brain-melting language included, right on the box!



This is a litte redundant I think because aren't all Realistic Action Functions inherently Electronic? Come on.



If you weren't convinced before, you are now. Is there a way to make all my children auto mechanics as well, you're wondering? The answer is that anything is possible in China.



Hm. Well, right of the bat, I like the idea of my daughter thinking that ironing is a 'fun' activity. Goes along with the auto mechanic thing. But how can I be sure that she will be convinced that this gaudy pink iron is as 'fun' as I hope it will be?



How do these Asian marketers know all the answers to my questions before I even ask?



Let's say that you were planning on welcoming some strange children (maybe your own children) to someplace that they needed to be welcomed to. Like, uhm, I can't think of anyplace children need to be 'welcomed' to. Let's say hypothetically that you wanted to welcome some children to, uhm, the grand opening of your neighborhood snow cone stand.

Okay. What's the first thing you need? Wrong, it's not a snow cone stand, jerk! You need a welcome gift for the children! Something that will insure a liken new appearance, something vivid and great in style, something definitely the best.

Or else the children's parents are going to be like, "Sure, these children's welcome gifts were vivid. But did they have a liken new appearance? NOT EVEN!" And you will never see them at your hypothetical snow cone stand again, that's real. Be very, very, very real about this. Your hypothetical snow cone stand depends on it.



Even on the day your fish dies.



Wow, a toy forklift with an awkwardly packaged rider! Wait, before I take the bait on this one, what are this toy's selling points?



It's big, wild and action. That should be enough for anybody. But once Joe Consumer realizes that his child's delight will be INFINITE, slam dunk. The deal is done. You would never have to buy another toy again! Not to mention the crucial intellectual motive power. Seriously, don't mention that.



Oh, you Jungle Elves are adorable! Especially the way you don't have anything to do with Elves or the jungle. What a treat! Let's get a closer look at your description:



Nothing in my life could have possibly prepared me for a sentence like "drive it on danger place is forbad, such as public street,,road,brae,natatorium etc." The sheer shock of confusion and joy left me palpitating. At first.

Now I lie in bed night after night, drenched in sweat. My mind reels as I try to imagine the improbable circumstances that could have allowed 'natatorium' to be included in this list of 'forbad danger places.' Why not 'construction site?' Or 'orbital space station?' What dire configuration of human logic allowed for 'natatorium' to be included above all other 'danger places?' Or does some design flaw of these toys cause them to spontaneously burst into flame in natatoriums? If so, what secret component of every natatorium in the world could cause this reaction? HOW CAN I PROTECT MY SWEETING BABY FROM THE SCOURGE OF NATATORIUMS ???

Will we ever know what a brae is? And if not, how can we ever be sure that our precious children aren't driving their Jungle Elves on braes AT THIS VERY SECOND???

What's even worse is that there are people all over the world who aren't even in the slightest bit concerned about this!

Please join me in writing to our state representatives. We must demand that a subcommittee be formed immediately to determine how braes can be stopped.

Before it's too late.

Sunset Walk

My favorite picture from our sunset walk last night.

Moped Than Anyone Could Handle - by Christopher

We're trying something a little different with this post. Instead of sending you scrambling to Dropshots for our videos (which is a fine hosting service but a little cumbersome) we've decided to "drop the shots" directly to our blog. Get it? Sorry, I'm tired today and you'll soon understand why.

In theory, you can play each video inside this post, whether you're on our page or just checking your RSS. But things may load slowly, so please let us know about any trouble you have so we can figure out if this is the right method of delivery for you guys.

On with the show.

The videos are in chronological order beginning with the start of our Easter all the way to the pathetic, bedraggled ending. Yesterday began as all our adventures do, with a big helping of positive energy and high hopes:



Our first road test was thrilling but directionless, like every episode of Lost since season two. Fifteen minutes before the next video was shot, I was confidently assuring the moped rental guy that I was an experienced driver. Then I was rocketing aimlessly down the road wondering, "Do mopeds have turn signals? And if so, where would the turn signal button on this moped be?" Also, please enjoy the newest addition to our travel videos making it's dramatic debut at the 40 second mark, 'deafening wind noise.'



The first leg of our journey was hampered by our lazy rental guy, the Easter holiday and heavy airport traffic. Let's go to the tape:



Upon reaching the famed Valley of the Butterflies, (supposedly a yearly spawning ground for multitudes of the winged insects) we were faced with a road that seemed to transform into a pedestrian-only footpath. We discovered the truth only after wandering around like slack-jawed tourists for the better part of twenty minutes. This next video features a breathtaking "tour of the parking lot" at 1:50. Just give me the title of 'Rick Steves Heir Apparent' and get it over with.



Unexpectedly encountering wildlife can be exciting and sometimes alarming. The elderly madame who hauled out her milkers at the hotel pool the other day was an example of the latter. Discovering the pigs in the next video was an example of the former. Especially when one of the pigs transformed from 'dead' to 'lazy' before our eyes.



The next video features a cliffhanger at the 1 minute mark entitled, "Will the Car Run Over the Pigs?" Only one way you can find out.



My favorite part of the next video happens at 0:14, when the little girl in red waves goodbye to us with her twisted claw.



For those of you "city slickers" like myself who don't have any first-hand experience with goats let me tell you, they are real self-involved jerks. You could run into a group at the mall or on a mountain bluff and it wouldn't matter how polite or conversational you tried to be, they would just stare back at you with their judgmental little eyes.



But this next goat was okay because he was a baby and made cute little nonsense noises like Miley Cyrus. She is a national treasure and it's your job to prolong her important career with your dollars, tasteless parents of the world.



I give Sarah a lot of credit for the fears she conquered yesterday. And, as with most things she tries, she picked it up quickly. She started out petrified of killing us and by end, she was casually cutting turns on steep mountain switchbacks hundreds of feet up.



We stopped for lunch and had a photo session that Sarah had been planning for days. We received so many comments and e-mails from our readers after I wrote this post that Sarah got the idea to have a boiled-egg photo shoot, just in time for Easter. Afterwards, of course, all that was left to do was eat the evidence.



At 1:44 in the next video I show you my method for hard-boiled egg ingestion. It's unrefined but efficient, like a cell phone belt holster.



Further along our journey I decided to take a "short-cut" down a dirt and gravel road. Which quickly turned into a scarily isolated mountain trail that was made even more terrifying as the "road" turned into a rocky goat path barely wide enough to avoid drops of a thousand feet or more. Our poor moped was not really built to endure this challenge and neither (I learned) was my wife's patience. The next video was shot after about twenty minutes of hard going.



It literally took us a full hour of driving at a quarter of our maximum speed over deep ravines, running streams and rocky hills to make it out on the other side of my "short-cut." Sarah was vocal about her fear from the beginning to the end of that endless hour, but I only felt the icy chill of fear as we descended another rocky slope and I felt my front tire smash against another in a long string of sharp rocks it had smashed against. It occurred to me in that moment that if the tire blew out we had no spare to replace it with. I suddenly realized how long the shadows of the trees were growing on the path ahead of us. I checked my watch, but couldn't remember when the sun would go down. I wondered with fear how much time we had left before evening would descend on this remote spot in the wilderness. Then I remembered that we had brought no cell phone with us on our "day trip." We found out that we were only about twenty minutes away from a reasonably paved road at that point and I will never forget the feeling of relief as I drove into a village with people and a cafe and a gas station. But I will also never forget the icy chill of fear I felt in the pit of my stomach at the bottom of that rocky slope, when I realized that one sharp rock and one blown tire could very well mean a night spent with no food, water, or shelter as my poor wife and I wandered aimlessly in a huge, dark forest. The next video is the last record we made of this terrible hour, during a time when we still clung to the hope that we were just silly tourists who made a harmless mistake.



By the time we shot the next video we had been bouncing along the roads of Rhodes for the better part of 6 hours. We were tired, hungry and exhausted. And the last hour on the goat path had sapped our will. All we wanted was to get back to familiar surroundings and stop wrestling a moped up and down mountains. Sarah's posterior began to hurt so badly that at one point she just climbed off and began walking. I putted along behind her until she had marshaled enough will to climb back on.



My face really says it all I think. It turned out that we were nowhere near any familiar surroundings. In fact, we had another hour-and-a-half drive in front of us. We managed to laugh on the journey home in spite of it all and finally dropped off the moped and walked to our favorite little Italian place.



I finally dragged some final thoughts out of myself. The meal was fantastic and we turned in early soon after.



I can already hear you now, "Wow guys, what tough GREEK VACATION you're having. You two should really consider taking a break from your NO JOBS AND CEASELESS LEISURE before you give yourself a hernia."

It's pretty hard to muster sympathy for us, so don't try. We wouldn't know what to do with it anyway :D

Happy Easter

Today we celebrated Easter in our own special way. A way that we would like to share with you but are too tired to upload tonight.

So, consider the following a little Easter preview.
Hope you all have an eggstra special Easter!

Much love,
Chris & Sarah