Friday, 30 January 2009


Dear Big Lizard Who Lives Near the Front Door,

PLEASE stop scaring the crap out of me every time I walk outside. You look like a freaking snake - please start acting more lizard-like. I know it's hot and you need to rest in the shade, but you are shaving years off my life.

Scared Lady who Screams


Dear Sun,

Thank you. I love you. You have cracked me open and warmed me up from the deepest winter I have ever known. Like, some kind of fucked-up fairy tale. Thank you for the heatwave. I love it, and have already started to feel sad that you cannot stay here forever. Apparently, my peeps in America are going to need you soon, so I shall begrudgingly share you.

The Fair-Skinned Sun Worshipper


Dear Manufacturers of Clothing,

It's SUCH a coincidence that you ALL have made size 12 so small, since I had the baby *ahem*. I hope you correct your error soon *ahem*.

Yummy Mummy Wannabe


Dear Melancholy Mood,

Go AWAY already! C'mon ..... newsflash, the cancer crisis is over! Give me a break. I'm going to the gym and eating right - why must you persist in hanging around me like a bad smell? I'm hoping that if I ignore you, you will go away. Otherwise I may have to pull out the Big Guns.

Sad Traumatised Woman


Dear Bloggy Peeps,

I heart you a million times, think of you often, and wonder how you are. Visiting your blogs makes me feel like I have stepped into my grandmothers house and she has made a warm batch of pikelets just for me ... FOR DINNER. I'm sorry I have not commented much lately, but I simply cannot do the drive-by comment. I need more time. Oh ..... and I so have not forgotten the parcels. It's just, there's a lot, and I'm trying to not buy a shitload of Made in China crap to post, and make them all thoughtful for you, etc. I promise to try harder.

Topcat XOXOX


Dear Dead Dads,

Halfway through Pump class last week, it suddenly occurred to me. I am stronger than both of my dads put together. You have failed, at life.

And I have not.

You both ripped my heart out in more ways than you will ever, ever know. That pain did not "shape who I have become." I have shaped who I have become. Sucks to be you. (But I hope you are ok and not in purgatory like that priest told me once.)

That Red Haired Girl You Never Bothered to Stay Alive For.


Dear Dave,

You are like Benjamin Button - growing younger every day. You look hot again. The thought of losing you is unbearable. Please stay well.

Your Wife (Wife! We got married hahaha!)


Dear God,

I forgive You.

Love Eden

Tuesday, 27 January 2009

The Sun in my Son

Me: "Can I take a photo of your scar and post it onto my blog?"

Dave: Laughs, shakes his head in disbelief.

He won't let me ..... but his scar looks so cool. It's a thick, angry line, coming straight down his belly and stops just before his belly button. So it looks like an exclamation mark. I told him his scar is saying ..."OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED!!!" Because it was all just so quick - about to have a baby, husband gets sore tummy, thinks it's a hernia but was some tumours instead, exploratory surgery, BAM. Welcome to cancerland.

I'm now having flashbacks, strange and freaky and spinning me out. I want to just be over this already, but it's taking a while to process. I take a lot of pride in the things I have already overcome in my life ... but this one, this is a biggie. I saw my friend recently, nine months pregnant and about to pop. We were in a crowded cafe ... I wanted to lean over, and whisper in her ear .... "Imagine finding out your husband had cancer, right now when you are so pregnant."

The thought startled me and made me feel sick.

I went to the GP, he asked me how I was going. I didn't really know .. then I got home and the word came. Traumatised. Completely fucking traumatised.

My bloggy peep had a baby recently, and wrote ... "the first two weeks are just so hard." And I thought of Roccos first two weeks. And felt sick again.

Our family is truly on the up, though. Shifting and changing shape again. Intellectually, I knew that my marriage took a massive hit last year, but we have just been playing catch-up now. Dave and I bunkered down to save ourselves, but now we are coming back to each other again. Like how it was before he got diagnosed .... how it was when I was pregnant. He is strong again, and so am I.

It was a turbulent Christmas time, which was a shame.

Last week, Max called me into his room to show me his drawings. This one .....

.... was hanging on his wall. He explained it to me.

"Ok. So, here are the two parents. Fighting, fighting fighting. The baby is locked outside and has done a poo in its pants and it's crying. The middle-sized brother has gone for a drive to the shop with the oldest brother. The parents are arguing so loud that the bricks and wood are falling down."

I stared at the picture, and gently asked, "So did the parents ever stop arguing?"

He said they did.

"And, how did the middle-sized brother feel?"

"Oh, he was ok."

I have been loving on Max so much, this past week. All of my energy has gone in to having happy and fun family time. We all went swimming together at the pool. We stayed down in a fancy hotel in Sydney for one, night, impromptu ... Max and I had to go to the chemist to buy us all toothbrushes and we wore our same clothes again the next day. To celebrate Australia Day, we ate four different kinds of gelato from Leichardt - pavlova, beer, lamington, and vegemite.

Tip: don't ever eat vegemite gelato.

Maxs "angry parents" picture has stayed up on his wall, but he has thrived under my attention and love this week. Tonight, we were in the shower and he goes "Mum, I just love you. You don't even have to try. I love you so much."

I said it was the best, most awesomest thing I have ever heard in my life. I told him again how proud I am of him for handling last year like he did. I told him I love being his mum more than anything else in the whole world.

He goes into Year Two tomorrow. His clothes are laid out on his bedroom floor "in the shape of a boy." His lunch is packed, textbooks are labelled, and his Spirit is nurtured.


I'm about to blog much, much more. Renewed, refreshed and recovered ... the Hiatus is over. My spring has suddenly sprung, in the middle of summer!! Woot!!!


Thursday, 22 January 2009

Two Reasons for Everything

Reason One:

Reason Two:


I just wrote the longest post .... and it just disappeared. Blogger, how I curse thee!!!

Summary: Went to GP, baby had immunisations, it's stinking hot (YAY), Dave bought me flowers, made batch of organic babyfood so feel like Worlds Best Mother, the Prickly Pear is softening and GASP letting people in!


Tuesday, 20 January 2009

The Ghosts Aren't Real

I started back at the gym. Small children cried and a dog covered its eyes ..... but, I feel the stirrings of something good happening. Endorphins, clarity, strength .... all of these. I still don't feel so great (UNDERSTATEMENT), however, I will be fine. How do I know I'll be fine? Because you told me!!

Thank you for your love and support, it wasn't my intention to blog the hard stuff here but it seeps out and I can't pretend, I have spent too much of my life pretending already. I am so behind on reading and emails that it's ridiculous. Sorry.

Do you know NieNie? My sister reads her religiously. She is home, at the end and beginning of a most massive journey. I look through her old posts and just yearn to be more like her, especially the way she nurtures and protects her family. She is amazing.

U2 have released a new single from their new album "No Line on the Horizon." It's called Get On Your Boots. Technically, it should read "Get Your Boots ON," (shouldn't it? Pam?) .. but it's Bono so I'm willing to let the grammatical error slide. Every time U2 release an album, choirs of angels rejoice in heaven. I listened to the single yesterday and shed more tears, but I think they are turning into tears of Relief and Hope. Last year whenever a U2 song came on the radio, it was no longer a sign, I used to think "Fuck Bono." I would not let any Light or Hope in, for it was so dark there for a while and we didn't know what would happen.

I still don't know what's going to happen. Who does? All I know is, I have made lemon and tomato meatballs and they are simmering on the stove. All the boys are out swimming, my washing is up to date, I have let Spirit back in, and I have five minutes to blog then get to tonights pump class.

Because I'm an athlete now, you know.


The future needs a big kiss
Winds blows with a twist
Never seen a moon like this
Can you see it too?

Night is falling everywhere
Rockets at the fun fair
Satan loves a bomb scare
But he won’t scare you

Hey, sexy boots
Get on your boots, yeah
You free me from the dark dream
Candy floss ice cream
All our kids are screaming
But the ghosts aren’t real

Here’s where we gotta be
Love and community
Laughter is eternity
If joy is real

You don’t know how beautiful
You don’t know how beautiful you are
You don’t know, and you don’t get it, do you?
You don’t know how beautiful you are

That’s someone’s stuff they’re blowing up
We’re into growing up
Women of the future
Hold the big revelations
I got a submarine
You got gasoline
I don’t want to talk about wars between nations
Not right now

Hey sexy boots...
Get on your boots,
Not right now
Bossy boots

You don’t know how beautiful
You don’t know how beautiful you are
You don’t know, and you don’t get it, do you?
You don’t know how beautiful you are
Hey sexy bootsI don’t want to talk about the wars between the nations
Sexy boots, yeah

Let me in the sound
Let me in the sound
Let me in the sound, sound
Let me in the sound, sound
Meet me in the sound
Let me in the sound
Let me in the sound,
now God,
I’m going down

I don’t wanna drown now
Meet me in the sound
Let me in the sound
Let me in the sound
Let me in the sound,
Let me in the sound,
Meet me in the sound

Get on your boots
Get on your boots
Get on your boots
Yeah hey hey

Friday, 16 January 2009


Well, it seems the whole plan to blog daily has gone out the window. I can't blog daily when I feel like running away from home.

It's been a big week. Biiiiiiig. School holidays, swimming lessons, baby crawling at breakneck speed, dealing with the whole cancer/chemo/near-death/newborn aftershock situation. I swear to God, I am SICK of myself harping on about it.

Little things have profoundly affected me lately ... a friend of ours just got back from the U.K., and came over to have a cup of tea. Sitting there together, Dave was chatting about how he got pulled over by a copper for talking on his mobile while driving, but the copper let him off because it was his birthday. "Where was I driving too .... oh that's right, I was visiting Edes in hospital when she had the bub ...." (Almost nine years together and he still calls me Edes. I hate being called Edes. HATE. But he does it anyway).

And the conversation carried on .... but I was silently stricken with heavy lead. I wanted to scream at everybody in the room that no, he was not driving to visit me in the hospital. He NEVER visited me in hospital because he was down in his OWN hospital ARRRGHHHHH.


If it wasn't so fucking painful it would be fascinating. It's like, I'm a soldier in the war and the war's over and you come home but all the trauma has only just begun. I'm like Hawkeye in M.A.S.H. when he flips his lid. Actually, I am like Hawkeye in M.A.S.H. - I always have to sniff my food before eating it. Always.

Yesterday I finally went through the government newborn/parent pack they give you in hospital ... mixed in it was all of Daves chemo literature, and the Non-Hodgkins survivor stories I googled and printed out. I flung it all in the bin, so deeply hurt and pissed off that Roccos birth got so tainted. I might just give myself a bit of time to feel it all, let it out, and let it the fuck go already.

You know how, when something really big happens - like a death or something, then your whole life stops? And changes? Well, I noticed tonight that I don't watch television anymore. Not one skerrick, since Daves diagnosis. The news, sometimes. Everything has seemed too serious to waste time watching the tube. I miss TV, for she was my first true love.

Max has had intensive swimming lessons every day this week, which has been great to just get up and go somewhere with the guys, get out in the day. I was watching him swim, and remembered the school term last year when he had his lessons late on Monday nights. Dave was too sick to take him, so I would put the 2-month old baby in the car - sore scar, sick husband, middle of winter, and drive Max to his lesson. I would stand there with my iPod on, so no-one would come up to me and ask about Dave. (They did anyway. Apparently curiosity did NOT kill the cat - I almost did, though HA). I don't know how I did that. I think I'm paying the price for it now.

When Max was born I was utterly Besotted. Amazed. Serene. Empowered. Enraptured. I distinctly remember him going through his babyhood, and each time he got a little older, reached a new milestone, I would think "Oh, this is my favourite age." Four months, nine months, one year ... it just kept getting better.

With my beautiful, tough guyo babyman who I was petrified of fucking up forever because of what happened .... I can honstly say, that this is my favourite age of his. On Monday he will be EIGHT MONTHS old. The older he gets, the more a relief it is. He has a crawling style of a man parched in the desert, digging his hands in the rug and pulling his lifeless legs behind him. HILARIOUS. (I remember Maxs crawling style ... he was hunched over like Cornelius from Planet of the Apes.)

Look at him, eating sand. He is SO TOUGH. He had to be. He does push ups! And freaking SIT UPS, from a lying down position! Like Regan from the Exorcist, he has this superhuman strength that freaks me out. I can hear strangers draw in their breath when they peer into his pram on the street, amazed at his intense eyes.


It's time, I think, to gently tell myself that the war is over. Lay down my arms of such rage and bitterness, and just live again. Today, during the big marathon marital pow-wow where we went over the same sticky issues for hours and hours. It was crunch time ... for better or worse indeed.

So, I have decided to stay, forgive him AND myself, love all the boys (my GOD this house is packed with testosterone Send. Help.) .... get some writing work cracking, start back at the gym, and just be nice. Nicer.

Life crumbles around me sometimes and I simply can't pretend. Sometimes I wish I could! I often tell people going through a hard time that there is strength in falling apart.

It just feels so darn messy when it's happening to YOU.


Sunday, 11 January 2009

I Motherfucking Love These Photos

Dave was a few months away from death, when Rocco was born. "Lucky" for us his tumours got detected when they did. In this photo, you do not see a father who is wondering if his new baby will ever know him. You just see a father, loving and teaching his baby a new toy. Simple. We never knew if this photo could ever, ever happen. But it did, and I took it, and the baby loves dada so much, and what a fucking relief I can let go of it all because everybody seems to be ok now ...

Most people annoy the crap out of me. I am what Nicholas Cage add-libbed in Leaving Las Vegas when he fell over onto the freshly smashed glass .... a prickly pear. People let you down. They say silly things. They engage in mindless chit-chat. I am different to most people. A few times I have told some people that last year was the worst year of my entire life. ALL of them have told me that it couldn't have been ... I mean, look, I had a baby didn't I?

Why yes, I did.

Thing is, having a baby during your husbands cancer battle does not, repeat NOT, make things better. It made everything so, so much worse. I can't even describe.

But this photo - this photo does not show a mother crying crying crying chopping veggies up for dinner, holding her fresh sore c-section scar, iPod blaring Guns n Roses to drown out the inconsolable baby screaming in the other room.
This photo shows a baby chilling on the beach, playing with sand, laughing and forgiving his mama over and over again.

(Oh and it also shows a BRAND NEW PEDICURE. Last time I had one was over a year ago. Memo to pedicure lady ... I am just so , so sorry you had to do that).

Saturday, 10 January 2009


I am home. Cannot wait to check in on my peeps. Maybe build myself a blogroll, pimp out these new digs a bit. Took some great shots at the beach this morning .... but my favourite was of the pavement outside Avoca Beach public toilets.

Had trouble holding the camera still because I was laughing so hard when I took this photo of penis grafitti today. People had to walk around me.

You gotta take happiness where you can get it, I reckon.

Friday, 9 January 2009

Going Down?

"It's been a long, hot summer
Lets get undercover
Don't try to hard to think,
don't think at all

I'm not the only one,
Staring at the sun.
Afraid of what you'd find
If you took a look inside."

U2 - Staring at the Sun

Monday was good. We got to the beach early and set up the little beach tent. Max transformed into a big guy before my eyes, running into the surf and swimming out, in the hopes of catching a wave back in. We ate hamburgers for lunch, Dave got way too sunburnt. The beach house is stunning, So is the weather. And the beach, and the children. Wondered why I felt strangely hollow.

Tuesday was a bit hard. Getting up in the morning seems so hard lately … Dave is such a morning freak that he often gets up before the baby … we let Tim sleep and went down to the beach. Dave went for a run and didn’t come back for two hours … finally he arrives back red-faced and panting that he got lost and ended up doing a 12 kilometre run. Chemo? What chemo?? I minded two boys on the beach by myself. Which was hard. We went out for lunch and dinner again …. cooking? Meh.

Wednesday, I tried so much to have a good time. Shopping, pedicure … haircut, new book. It worked, for a little while. The baby ate vegemite toast for the first time, I was so proud. Couldn’t seem to go for a walk on the beautiful beach. Patience non-existent. Yelled at Dave. Maybe it’s just PMT. Guys got out the most ridiculously violent movies, I went to bed in disgust.

Thursday was bullshit. I couldn’t even pretend I was ok anymore. So cranky … at myself. For Chrissake, one look at the news and all the violence and heartbreak … what is the matter? Stop being such a self-absorbed twat! Went ice-skating, Max loved it, my God he is good at anything he tries. So athletic and confident, I love watching him shine and grow. He was silent in the car for a while, then piped up with, “Mum, I just can’t believe that I’m finally growing up. I’m learning new stuff all the time. When will I stop learning new stuff and just know?”His words made my heart go warm, and I told him that, hopefully, he will never stop learning things. That some adults think they know everything but they don’t. And that I was learning new things, all the time. I told him to always keep learning, always ask questions.

Friday – today. Woke up and felt great. Thought, whew! Finally! I drove down with the sunroof popped, to pick up the boys to take them all out for brekky. They get in the car, music blaring. Dave talks about the new exercise thing he ordered and is picking up tomorrow. Then he proceeds to grab my armfat, jiggle said armfat, and tell me his new fancy exercise thing will definitely help with the armfat. Tim then grabs my other arm(fat), and agrees. I then yell and scream at the top of my lungs, and start crying. Told them to shutup, I KNOW I am fat but I do not need REMINDING. Total turdburgers. I yelled so much that my ears were ringing. Parked the car and said I was going for a walk, by myself. Cried and cried. And cried …. and, umm cried. My phone rang, and I accidentally answered it. It was my sister Linda, told her I didn’t mean to answer my phone. Told her about the boys and the armfat, she starts PISSING herself laughing, saying are those boys STUPID??!! I told her didn’t feel so good, and then she told me that I haven’t felt so good for a while.

And then the penny dropped. Haven’t I??!!!


I am feeling depression. In the true, true sense of the word. Everything feels so bleak and grey. I feel worthless, like my life has no meaning. I feel like a useless, pathetic idiot. I have been walking around on the verge of tears …. for a long, long time now. And got so fucking used to it, it’s like Bob Earle’s vulture at the end of his bed in the mornings. I feel like I should be “over” Dave’s cancer by now. Fini. Done … what’s next?

I’m going home tomorrow, and will be seeing my doctor next week, just to talk it out. I don’t want to go on medication, fucking hate the idea of taking anything mood-altering. He knows my entire history, and I trust him. So we shall see. Exercise, maybe some therapy would help. I know my thoughts aren’t real, but man they feel real. Sucks to be me.

Who motherfucking knows. I’m still finding my way, on this new blog. I will be posting more from now on. Blogging is different things on different days. It's reaching out and getting connected and being social. Damn it, blogging is just good for one's Soul.

I may feel like a piece of an amoeba's sphincter muscle, but darn I felt great when I watched Rocco eat his vegemite toast ...

.... and watched the boys help Maxie skate ....

.... and watched Dave (note the chemo-free complexion!) feed Rocco his peach ...

Sunday, 4 January 2009


I couldn’t hold out any longer. It took longer to pack the freaking car than the three hour drive to get there. I was worried, as I’d never driven that long alone with the baby before.

I timed it so that it was his nap time, but he hardly slept at all. Woke up just as I was going through McDonalds drive-thru for a large latte and frozen coke, which I ended up drinking both together because I am disgusting like that. I have a “cast-iron” stomach, as do both my boys. I was always so proud of the fact that I could drink such a lot of booze until I threw up. Of course, towards the end of drinking, I threw up a lot. But that is the story of another day as this is the story of the baby and the journeys we have been on.

By the time we hit the bottom of the mountain, he was getting restless, and I was getting scared. Suddenly I had a Go-Go-Gadget arm that could feed him his bottle as I was driving. He sits behind the passenger seat, I still don’t know how I did it. I was thinking a lot about him, how cute he was and how we had bonded the last few days. I read your comments on my last post, and as always, felt buoyed and better and comforted. Then I had the biggest realisation of all …. what if this whole thing we have been through, makes mine and the baby’s relationship stronger than it ever would have been? Instead of weak and lacking, as I always thought it would be.

He was looking at me in the rear view mirror almost the whole journey. Sussing me out. Smiling. Making demands. At one point, he was reaching a crescendo that was about to turn into wailing. So in desperation, I turned the CD player on. The Doors settled him right down – but only if I blared it so loud. He fucking loved it, and fully chilled out. “Into this house we’re born/Into this world we’re thrown.”

This baby was thrown into the world. It was not my fault. I was worried I would not love him enough. I do. I DO. This baby is as tough as nails and strong as an ox. He wants to know how to do things. On the verge of crawling. Sleeps through every night. Had his first swim in the surf today, didn't bat a freakin' eye.

By the time we got to the F3 turn-off to the Central Coast, I realised that by driving off the other day, Dave had triggered my abandonment issues. They run so deep that I doubt there is even a bottom. Just endless sea of despair. I was still so cranky, and still am. I also have PMS and am eating WAY too much chocolate which is giving me sugar rage. I try to jog it off as quick as I'm eating it, alas, my bikini is WAY too tight and I'm WAY to fucking flabby for a bikini anyway. Tomorrow I shall have to but a one-piece. Just until, you know, I get some abs of steel. We are staying at a beautiful house near the beach, and I’m trying so hard to enjoy it. Your comments still ringing true for me …. so nice to know that I am not alone! That you joined my “I’m fucked up; You’re fucked up!” club.

Dave has a lump on his arm. I’m taking him straight to the doctor when we get home. I refuse to dwell on it.

We are eating way too much. The guys keep mooning each other in public, trying to out-gross each other. It never works – none of us, especially me, are gross-out-able. I hold Rocco and kiss his golden head and tell him that will be him soon, running around being naughty. He knows.

If Dave bosses me around one more time I may punch him. All of us argue about what to have for lunch. Will we go to the beach or the shops. What will we have for dinner. I feel like a Simpson most of the time. But I love it, and am trying to live in a Spirit of Contentment instead of Resentment.

There’s a woman on facebook, whose page I look at a lot. We were best friends at a school in Sydney when I was seven. She’s a dancer, and literally dances her way across the world. Paris, India, America …. right now she is in Thailand. Always dancing. I think I look at her with some envy. No worries, no cancer, no babies, no fucked-up past, no messy family dynamics. Just her and her feet, and her exotic friends. I wonder what it would be like, to be her.

Last night, I wondered if she wondered what it would be like to have a messy family, and kids, and a hubby, and a home … all the things she doesn’t. If she wondered, what it would be like … to be me.

Thursday, 1 January 2009

All is Quiet .... On New Years Day

Can you hear that sound?

It's the muffled sound of somebody censoring their own blog!

Fuck that. *Ahem*

I feel like shit, and have had an AWFUL first day to this year! Why can't I just be with my family down the beach? Why must I be so obstinate and stubborn? (But Dave started it!! Somebody call the wah-mbulance!)

Aftershocks of the year-that-was still ripple and affect us all. We are still trying to heal. I am not healed. I have forgiven God ... which is a great start. But for fucks sake (sorry, NancyGrayce!) I am bruised beyond belief.

I am ANGRY that the first six months of Roccos life have been so shit ... so terrifying. One chemo after another, bang bang bang. And now what - Dave's all better? Well what the FUCK was the point of it all? It's just stupid.

I did IVF to have Rocco. There are women out there, for whom infertility (and loss) marks their soul in ways unimaginable to me. I was lucky .. even though a LOT of angst and heartache was involved, I got pregnant. And stayed pregnant. People would have been jealous. Then Dave goes and grows stupid tumours, and people ... they weren't so jealous anymore.

I looked at a photo on my fridge today. It's a beautiful shot, of me holding Rocco in hospital while Max looks adoringly on. And I shuddered. Because I remember how I truly felt. And it was dark, and black. I am only now still playing catch-up, with the baby .... he's seven months old and I only just counted all his toes. Looked at him properly. Wanted to know who he is.

Sometimes our family is a seething swirl of emotions all over the place. Tim is reeling from stuff of his own. Dave is trying to claw his way back into the world. Max - he knows everything. So Dave and the boys are there and me and the baby are here and it makes me so sad, we couldn't all get our shit together to see in this new year.

It's 7.40pm and my friend Pixxie just made me laugh on Facebook, it's the first time I've laughed in two days.

I look around me, and I swear I feel like the only dysfunctional, fucked-up person on the planet. And I want to hide away and pretend I'm ok - but I'm not! I am not ok!

Last week I bumped into my old therapist. From hab. I told her I HAD to tell her .... I started a new blog and named it after her coffee mug, the one I used to look at every day in group - those painful, painful groups where she ripped me to shreds and I needed it so badly.

It feels so good, to see her in the street these days and she treats me like an equal. And tells me how great it is I got through the last year.

Life ... it's nothing like the brochure.


(And now ... paradoxically, I feel better ... after admitting how crap I really am. Strange).

Ding Dong

So far this year, I have not eaten any chocolate, said any swearwords, or had anyone close to me get diagnosed with cancer.

It's looking up already!!

Happiest of New Years ... and if it's not happy just yet, may it be real soon. XOX

Baby wishes you a Happy New Year too ....

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