handy anti-spam tip

A friend recently turned me on to a free website issuing throwaway email addresses for when you don't want to use your regular email. These are particularly helpful when you need to provide an email address to access certain types of webpages but don't want to give your "good" one to possible spammers.

Called 10 Minute Mail, it randomly creates an address and opens a mailbox on your browser without the need for a password. You then use that disposable email address to sign up for a webpage requiring one. If you need the account open for longer than ten minutes, you can hit a renew button.

Obviously this won't work for when you need an email longer than a day, like when you purchase something. But if you just want to look at a website requiring an email address, it will come in handy and keep some spam out of your regular box.

the history of cunnilingus

Anthropologists tell us when humans first used fire or built their own structures or smelted bronze. They will probably never be able to tell us when humans first tried cunnilingus or other sexual practices.

I would imagine humans discovered blowjobs first. Some randy caveman didn't want to poke the misses when she was on the rag, so he got the idea he could put it in her mouth. Maybe he readied her with some generous portions of mead beforehand.

He almost certainly liked what happened. But then what came next? He told one of his caveman buddies about how good it felt? When your woman is on the rag, try sticking it in her face. You'll thank me, I swear, once you talk her into it.

Some time probably passed. Word got around in that particular cluster of caves. When one of those cavemen was captured by a warring tribe, he spread the word. Soon women everywhere were on their knees and put to good use.

More time passed. An adventurous woman decided what was good for the gander was good for the goose. When her man was more than a little drunk on the mead and unable to move, our adventurous cavewoman sat on his face. He tried to murmur in protest but instead his tongue ended up inside her.

He decided he sort of liked that sensation and kept poking around up there with his tongue. She writhed in ecstasy.

The next morning when women were washing the pelts down on the stones by the river, she whispered to her friends about what had happened.

Soon, the communal supply of mead began to fall as women got their men drunk and tried some face riding for themselves. Happiness abounded. Many of the men didn't mind. With time, most didn't even need the mead to get the ball rolling.

And then one of those women was captured by a warring tribe, and the word began to spread.

So there you have it. I wonder if I could get a PhD for this speculative historical report?

waiting waiting waiting

I've taken my father-in-law to several long medical appointments in the last few weeks. This usually means I hav to wait an hour or two in a waiting room while he's back being treated. If I don't have Joey with me, I always take along something to read.

One thing I've noticed -- and this was not the first time -- is that some people do utterly nothing while waiting for long periods of time. They simply stare into space for an hour or two. Even if the facility offers magazines to read, they'll just sit like statues.

This is certainly not a phenomenon seen only in Australia. I remember the same thing back in the states, whether it was a medical office, government office, or airport. People do nothing except imitate a house plant while waiting for long periods.

I'm not talking about napping people. Or people fiddling with smart phones while waiting. I'm talking about the sitting dead who do positively nothing.

I would be utterly and completely bored out of my skull if I had to wait for two hours and didn't have anything to read or to do.

very weird critters

Someone has taken the time to find pictures of some very weird looking creatures and posted them on Imgur. Some of them look like a movie crew created them for a low-budget scifi pic.

The fish with a human mouth, seen below, is my favorite. The teeth look like they were straightened by an orthodontist.

You can see the whole menagerie here.

the royal visit

Kate Middleton and the two princes have left Australia. There was a near total media frenzy here about them, particularly the little one.

I always find it amusing how pundits and royalists refer to William or George as "the future king." At one point, an Aussie talking head was nearly beside himself when he described William holding his son as "a future king held a future king."

Well, you don't know that either will actually ever be king. The monarchy could be retired before either could either be crowned. As well, the grim reaper could pay one or both a visit.

So either should be referred to as "the possible future king" or "the potential future king," but never outright "the future king." Because you just don't know.

the baby project

The Husband and I have decided it's time to start working on child number two. So we've stopped using birth control.

This will not be the intense project that child number one was. This is more of a casual effort. It took about a year before, with a whole lot of trying and stress, so this time we're determined to be very low key.

If I got pregnant tomorrow, Joey would be a few months past two years old when his baby brother or sister is born. If our past record is any guide, it may take me a year or more to get knocked up, so more realistically Joey will be past three and working on four or even older.

We're determined to be very zen about this one -- it'll happen if it happens, and if it doesn't, it wasn't meant to be. I've known couples who casually approached a second child like we're doing and it took years, not months. Maybe that will be the case for us, too.

Whatever happens, if it does, I am not looking forward to being pregnant. I've been told second and later pregnancies seem to go much faster than the first. I'm hoping that's true.

the selfish child

I do not read "how to be a good mother" books for a whole variety of reasons.

One, they often contradict each other. Two, who died and made so-and-so an expert on parenting simply because she or he wrote a book?

Three, I think books like this are something of a racket -- buy my book or else your kid will be screwed up. Four, what recourse do I have if the author is wrong -- this is my kid you're tinkering around with.

That's just off the top of my head. And note, I'm not talking about medical references about children, because they supply information, not theories, and can be valuable.

I do on very infrequent occasion scan through "how to be a good mother" articles in women's magazines. Sometimes I can't help but be seduced by their screaming cover blurbs: "Are You Making the Biggest First Motherhood Mistake?" and that sort of thing.

I read one the other day that advised encouraging some selfishness in a toddler. The idea behind the piece was that selfishness is necessary for survival and self-identity.

I seriously don't know about that. This sort of advice is mostly distilled crap, in my opinion. What is the line between "necessary" selfishness and greed? And who tested this theory with clinical, objective analysis?

But what if your kid isn't at all selfish? Should you encourage him to grab another child's toy on occasion just to keep up the old survival instincts?

When Joey plays with other children, he doesn't want to take their toys. He wants to give them his. The moment he meets another child, he has his hands out with a gift, friend or stranger alike.

If my child "bad" because of this? Screwed up? Doomed to a life of failure as a human doormat?

I highly doubt it. For one thing, he's much larger than other children his age. If he continues on this trajectory, he'll be bigger than my husband and his brothers, who are all well over six foot tall. My husband is very generous but he's certainly no doormat. I don't think his son will be, either.

Against all this background, I'm planning on writing an advice for young mothers book. Unfortunately, it will be very short. In fact, it'll all fit on one page. One paragraph -- one sentence actually.

Here it is: Ignore all the books and instead listen to your own instincts and common sense.

human barbie doll

The two pictures below show Valeria Lukyanova who, with the help of some plastic surgery and starvation diets, strives to make herself look like a living Barbie doll. I don't ever recall seeing a Barbie doll with tits like that.

This might be a good way to generate cable TV coverage and some print, but I don't see a long-term future in this kind of modeling. For one, she'll age herself out of marketability in a few years. And the novelty factor will wear off, too.

Presumably she's driven by a need for fame, not unlike Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, and any of a number other "reality TV" publicity whores. I guess such people feel no shame in being famous simply for being famous. As long as people are gaping at them, I guess they're happy.

In all honesty, I think this woman has close to zero sexuality with her Barbie look. In my opinion, a Barbie doll is sexless. She has no twat and nipple-less tits. She cannot fuck, let alone cum.

But it could be worse. Instead of trying to look like Barbie, she could have had plastic surgery to make herself look like R2-D2.

norma shearer

I saw the picture below recently of Norma Shearer and was struck by her beauty. She's oozing sex here. Most of the pictures I've ever seen of her, like this one, seem pretty sexless.

We're so used to seeing modern sex symbols on giant screens in crisp high resolution. The old stars of the past often seem flat and sexless to me in grainy old movies.

On occasion, however, an old picture will reveal the beautiful woman who melted the hearts of top producers and directors. You can see instantly from this picture why Shearer was such an attraction.

Shearer truly loved her husband Irving Thalberg, pictured with her in the click-through photograph. He's nothing to look at, but then true love isn't about looks. She mourned his loss for many years after his early death.

naked and confused

I have only the most rudimentary understanding of the technology behind Google's image search. It has something to do with pixel pattern matching. Or something. You upload a picture or supply a URL, and with lightning speed the search can often identify persons in the photograph as well as where to find a better copy.

When you supply a URL, the system kicks back the best copies to be found online. These tend to be the most accurate searches, as it apparently surveys its vast trove of pre-stored links to find superior copies.

Sometimes the search can be spectacularly wrong. Instead of returning links to identical images of a larger size with better resolution, the search kicks back entirely unrelated pictures.

I searched for the photo below in hopes of finding a better copy for my Tumblr page. But this was what was returned. Well, at least they're both outside.

I don't think we should hold our breath and wait for porn created by artificial intelligence.

deadlift in heels

My husband found this hysterical. I think it looks like a good way to get hurt. A briefer, short-attention version is here

easter porn

One of the commercial porn websites I follow sent an email touting their "Easter porn special." Lots of exclamation marks with that -- in fact, after every sentence.

I would not call myself religious. I believe in God and attend church on rare occasion. I pray on very rare occasion and never for myself -- only for others close to me when I think they need some special divine attention. I never say anything about religion to anyone else that could remotely be considered proselytizing.

With that said, I think the idea of using Easter to promote porn is pretty sleazy. Would they promote a Yom Kippur porn special or a Ramadan porn special? I don't think so. Would you send a condolence greeting like "sorry for your loss; here's some nice porn"? Not unless you're some kind of sick lunatic.

There are just some things that don't mix. Porn and Easter do not mix.

Speaking of Easter, it's supposed to be autumn Down Under but it's warmer here than for my brother in Chicago and my cousins in Pennsylvania, where it's allegedly spring. Wacky!

Have a happy and blessed Easter.

love handles

I want to say from the start that I don't want to sound like I'm dumping on overweight people. I know how difficult some people have losing weight, no matter how hard they try.

With that said, I wonder sometimes why people with weight problems dress like they do. Yes, they have the freedom to wear whatever they want. And, yes, they're not "wrong" for wearing clothes designed for someone much slimmer than they are.

But did the woman in the picture below make the wisest choice when she dressed that morning? Her outfit was designed for a woman who is not overweight. When someone overweight wears them, the clothes emphasize her weight.

Maternity clothes were not designed for men. So why don't men wear them anyway? Because they would look ridiculous.

One might say the same about an outfit designed for a 100 pound woman being worn by a woman 50 pounds overweight.

Wear what flatters you, not what some designer says is "the latest." If you dress for trends, not your body type, you often end up in something very unflattering.

Instead of people admiring you, they end up laughing at you behind your back. Don't paint a big target on yourself -- dress to look your best, not somebody else's idea of best.

rapper's self-castration

Sometimes you read a news story and wonder if it's actually a hoax that somehow is being picked up as legitimate.

Dozens of news outlets are reporting that rapper Christ Bearer aka Andre Johnson, affiliated with Wu-Tang Clan and other groups, attempted suicide yesterday by leaping from a second-floor balcony after severing his own penis. Some news outlets are also reporting he tried to castrate himself, too, before jumping.

He was rushed to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles for emergency surgery and is still alive as of this writing. If you Google his name as Andre Johnson you should find more recent updates.

Drugs reportedly are not involved. So that suggests this might be some kind of mental illness issue.

Still, the news is just so surreally bizarre it's hard to believe. What would drive a man to sever his own penis and then try to kill himself in a manner with a high probability of failing?

We humans do terrible things to each other, but sometimes the worst things we do are to ourselves.

geography fail

I could see overlooking some obscure, barely inhabited isle. But to summarily vanish the entire United Kingdom and Ireland takes some really major magic skills.

The purpose of this escapes me. To show she's a world traveler? Geography was her best subject in school? In the event she's abducted by aliens and they need a hint where to drop her off after they finish inserting abdominal probes?

And why is abdomen spelled with an "E" whereas abdominal is spelled with an "I"?

the dildo and the cod

A fisherman in Norway caught an apparently ordinary cod, but when he gutted it, he found the fish had eaten an orange vibrator about a third of its body length.

The 64-year-old fisherman who found it speculated the sex toy was dropped in the water by "a frustrated woman on a cruise." He then surmised the fish mistakenly thought it was an octopus and ate it. Poor fish -- the motor on the device still worked, although no word if it was turned on when found.

I think it's kind of cute a senior citizen in some small Norwegian town knows what a vibrator is. Maybe he gave one to the woman in his life for use when he was out to sea.

why is most porn mediocre?

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six monkeys

I have a mental image of these people's house with shredded drapes, trashed upholstery, and dried food on the walls. And doll tables and chairs and beds in one room and the floor strewn with broken toys.

I can't decide whether the creepiest element in this picture is the really tight collars with leashes or her dreamy expression staring off into the ionosphere like she's some kind of symphony composer or spiritual medium.

the real john le carré

More than a few times I've seen promotional blurbs for new books with lines like "gives John le Carré a major run for his money" or "move over John le Carré; you now have some serious competition."

Bull.

No living espionage writer comes close to touching le Carré. Not. One.

I first discovered him when I was about 13 or 14 and visiting my grandparents for the summer. They had an old paperback copy of A Perfect Spy on their shelves. I read it and was hooked.

Since then, I've read every one of his novels at least twice. While he's stopped giving interviews (he's 82), he has said he'll continue to write as long as he can. Bravo!

What I particularly like about his books is his strong literary style combined with a gifted genre writer's sense of character, pacing, jeopardy, and suspense. He truly knows his stuff because he was once a real undercover operative for both MI5 and MI6.

Publicists should stop with this le Carré comparison garbage. Because it only sets up an expectation that cannot be met, so the reader ends up disappointed and disliking the writer.

Graham Greene and Eric Ambler are every bit as good as le Carré, but of course they're no longer living. And I haven't read anyone who even seems to have the potential to step into le Carré's shoes when he's typed his last page.

a great computer tip I just learned

I did not know this: if you've accidentally closed a tab on your browser, hit "control," "shift," and the letter "T" simultaneously to get it back.

Am I the last person in the western world to learn this? I have no idea. I hope it's new for you, too, and will save you from a headache or two in the future.

As for why a duck is telling us this, if you don't already know about Actual Advice Mallard, this webpage will explain the meme for you.

stalin's daughter

I read a fascinating article yesterday in The New Yorker magazine about Svetlana Alliluyeva, Josef Stalin's youngest child, who died in 2011. Unfortunately, the article is behind a pay firewall so I can't link to it here.

Svetlana defected to the United States in 1967. She led a colorful life to say the least. She had some incredibly passionate romances and a great deal of heartache, too, in her life.

Being the child of an immensely infamous character like Stalin has to mess you up pretty seriously. From what I gleaned from the article, she seems to have blamed some (or most) of the Soviet dictator's worst exploits on one of his lieutenants. While the latter was clearly no saint, Svetlana was wrong in thinking this somehow exonerates her father.

She also said she didn't want to be seen through the prism of her father. That is a fair request, yet she dined out her whole life, as the saying goes, using her father's name. It's like she said "I'm Stalin's daughter and deserve something extra for that, but it's not fair that you judge me as Stalin's daughter."

What struck me more than anything about the piece is how she would be a fascinating subject for a movie or play or both. I emailed my movie writer/foot fetishist friend in California and suggested this.

He promised to look into it and, if he ended up writing a movie about her, would be sure to thank me in his Oscar acceptance speech.

I'm seeing Meryl Streep as Svetlana. She'd probably earn her 109th Oscar nomination for doing it, too.

pole dancing 101

I was an adequate but not exceptional pole dancer. Because I didn't really take to it, I was used as a fill-in and not a regular. I much preferred conventional exotic dancing anyway because the tips were better, although the good pole dancers made a mint.

Frankly, I was a little timid, the reason I wasn't a stand-out pole dancer. I didn't want to do anything that might land my ass in the hospital. An injury usually meant no job if you would be out more than a few days.

The first picture below shows a more advanced but still common pole dancing move. Many girls in clubs can do this. Girls can fall, too. Clubs usually have a wood or carpet floor under the pole in the event the dancer has a mishap. Some even have gym pads.

Falling on a pad, wood, or carpet is no picnic, but it's better than landing on concrete. So the first girl below might be good but she's not particularly bright. Pole dancing over concrete is a recipe for brain damage.

The second girl below is very good. That's not an easy move, although it might look so. She's holding herself up only by her thighs while maintaining perfect balance. She's also doing it over a wood floor.

Unfortunately, the less difficult first move is flashier and guys in the clubs eat that up. Some will recognize the second one is harder but many won't. The first will garner better tips, demonstrating once again that flash often beats out accomplishment.

money money money

Income taxes are due next week for those of us who are Americans, if you haven't heard already. Chances are you have.

I've lived abroad now for five years, but I still file mine using my brother's address. For all the IRS knows, I'm in Illinois. I do have extra time to file because I am abroad on the deadline date, but I always send mine in early so there's never any question, given I left the US before the tax year in question and thus have no travel receipt.

I was audited once when I still lived in Los Angeles. I didn't have to pay any additional tax as a result. I never knew exactly why, but I suspected it was a spot, random thing.

As an exotic dancer, I was considered self-employed, although often in the same club for more than a year. There is a possibility they wanted to see if I was actually an employee so they could go after one particular club or another where I had worked.

The woman who audited me did not bat an eye at what I did for a living. I guess that was boring to her. Now if I had sheltered income and didn't report it, that would be interesting.

So every year when I finish my taxes, I always slightly wonder if I'll be audited again and how to respond if they demand I do it in person. I report my foreign income and foreign tax paid, so the IRS must realize I'm abroad for extensive periods, but then I use an address in the US.

I hope not indicating I live abroad will not cause a problem down the road for me. I'm not sure why I never told the IRS this.

Dealing with entities "back home" can be a pain in the ass at times. US banks are the biggest headache. They just don't seem to understand the idea of someone living abroad.

Right now, I want to close one bank account I barely use because they will impose fees soon that I don't want to pay. I used live chat to ask them to close the account.

They told me I had to visit one of their branches. I told them I live in Australia. They acted like it was a big inconvenience for them to close it online.

I guess they feel traveling 10,000 miles to close an account would be no inconvenience for me.

a shitload of snow

I sent a link of this video to relatives in Chicago and Pennsylvania who complained to me in their email about how much snow they received this year. I don't think anyone got this kind of downfall.

I live in Australia now, where snow is a great rarity, but I do remember some basic snow preparation tips from my formative Midwest years. If you're expecting a large snowfall, you keep a shovel inside the house so you can shovel your way out the door.

People in the YouTube comments section are mocking these people's Newfoundland accents. I think they're interesting -- they sound like a combination of Scottish and Irish brogues.

the victorian muffdiver

The first thought in my wanton brain when I saw the picture below: "how does he go down on the woman in his life?"

I can't imagine any woman would want that big bushy thing between her legs. It would be like getting cunnilingus from a Yeti or a Wookie. It would itch. I can't imagine snuggling up to him in bed, either.

Maybe he's gay, but I'm not getting that vibe from him. Or maybe he's one of those people who are avowed celibates for holistic reasons. The beard fends off any possible interest.

His facial hair looks like something you'd see on a Victorian man. Those guys probably didn't do much muff diving, if any, so a bushy face wouldn't be a hindrance. She might not like to kiss him, but a woman would dare not complain anyway or there might be hell to pay.

modest street fashion

A webpage called Modest Street Fashion popped up on my Tumblr feed with an interesting picture so I surfed through to the site as my curiousity was piqued.

Turns out the page is a collection of photos showing women wearing conservative attire of varying degrees, most with head coverings and other religiously mandated accessories. The common theme seems to be very little skin showing in nearly every image.

I'd love to know how many women who dress like this do so out of societal pressure and how many out of personal desire. Fathers and husbands probably demand this, and mothers and older women also enforce these edicts simply out of life-long conditioning.

My American friend who lives in Dubai told me that scores of young native women have confided in her that they hate covering themselves.

Only one outfit caught my eye, and of course she's not covering her head. I love this look -- a very feminine high-waisted flowing skirt paired with a funky T-shirt tied at the side and a leather motorcycle jacket. The adorable turquoise shoes add a bright punctuation mark of style. I want those shoes.

Women of cultures forced to cover so much of themselves are often quite beautiful. What a shame they can't feel the joy of being admired for their beauty in public. I've seen pictures of women from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, and elsewhere without their tented clothing. They can really be gorgeous.

To any woman who says she dresses this way out of preference, I want to ask her: "who originally introduced this style of covered clothing to your culture -- was it men or women?"

The answer, almost always, will be men. So why should you want what men forced your culture to wear?

scientific flirting

The Week has a new anthology article up on their site about various scientific studies of flirting. The piece seems more geared toward men and how they might flirt successfully, according to science.

The article focuses much on physical technique and less on verbal flirting. In my opinion, verbal flirting is where men can really jump the rails.

Over-the-top, heavy-handed verbal flirting was usually a big turn-off for me, and I know the same for other female friends. Blunt verbal flirting is as unwelcome as blunt come-on lines. They suggested arrogance and ego to me -- the guy is so in love with himself he doesn't grasp that he's skilled at making a jackass of himself.

On the physical side, the article discusses how a soft face touch is the most flirtatious, but I think that could be fraught with danger if tried too soon. I was always a big fan of the forearm touch, which the article also discusses in detail. I think it's the most effective signal. No touch, no real interest. Touch and let the subtle negotiations begin.

I'm regularly amused at men who know I'm married yet still flirt with me, but it's almost always verbal. They seem to accept that verbal is "safe" but touching is too much. I may flirt back, but it's always strictly verbal, too.

My husband told me once that the wife of an acquaintance thought I was "too flirty." I think she demonstrates how some people can confuse friendliness with flirting.

Just because I'm friendly to her husband doesn't mean I want to bang him. Maybe that's just a way to flatter herself, considering he's actually no great catch.

orgasm depression

I'm currently reading British novelist Simon Mawer's Man Booker-nominated The Glass Room. Several times a character references the sadness he feels after sex as if this is a common emotional state for many people.

This is mentioned in one section that discusses the Latin phrase post coitum omne animal triste, which translates as "after coitus every animal is sad." Another time he mentions the Czech word lítost for this sensation, which can't be translated directly into English but apparently describes a sort of post-fuck blues.

Well I'm certainly not depressed or sad after sex. I'm walking on air. It's a state of nirvana.

I asked my husband what he thought. He said he feels something of a letdown, like a disappointment that the sex is over. But that's brightened by looking forward to the next time.

Maybe this is a male thing. I've never heard a woman mention this.

I did not steal a baby

People, people, people. Look at yesterday's date. What date was that?

Yes, that's right. April 1. April Fools' Day.

On April Fools' Day, people play practical jokes. The idea is to trap those who might be caught off guard. Hence, many people are prepared on April Fools' Day to be extra skeptical.

Last year on April 1, I "discovered" my husband was a cross-dresser (he's not). The year before, I had decided to give my baby away (not true). Before that, counting back the years, I discovered my husband was gay (not true), I had a new tattoo (not true), and that my husband and I had joined a celibacy cult (also not true).

So this year, I decided to grab someone's kid. Except that was a joke. It did not really happen. There was no junkie mother and no neglected baby. The supermarket part was true but the only thing that happened in the parking lot was when I stepped in someone's discarded gum.

Some of you were on to me right away. Others clearly were calendar impaired. Some commented on the blog about what I had done wrong. Others emailed me more passionate notes.

something pretty illegal

I did something pretty illegal last week. I keep wondering if the police will show up at my door.

I was at a supermarket I've never used before. Joey was with my husband who was picking up some new shoes for him.

The store is in a nice Sydney suburb, so I'm surprised at what I saw when I was putting the groceries in my trunk -- a woman was shooting drugs in the back seat of her car. She was pretty brazen about it, not making any attempt to hide what she was doing.

And it was clearly drugs and not some prescription: she had a sore on her face, hollow cheeks, bloodshot eyes, was way underweight, her nose was cracked and running, etc.

The big shocker was she had a baby asleep beside her in a car seat. The little one was about four months old in a grimy sleeper that looked like it came from a charity giveaway. The child was somewhat undernourished and very pale, but that's no surprise with a junkie for a mother.

When I returned to my car after dropping the cart in the corral, I saw the mother had nodded off. The syringe was still in her arm. The baby continued sleeping.

I suddenly did something on impulse without a moment's real thought: I reached into the open window, unfastened the baby from the seat, and walked casually toward my car with her (I found out her gender later). I opened my door, popped the baby into Joey's seat, climbed in myself, and drove away at a normal speed.

My heart was really pounding but I just continued driving. It took about forty minutes to reach home, and by then I was calmed down. I called my husband on the way and told him what I had done. He was chill about the whole thing and said he would have done exactly the same thing if he was there.

I've had the news on every waking hour since I did this to listen for any reports about a snatched baby, but I've heard utterly nothing. Maybe the junkie mother realized the baby was in a better home and so she didn't file a report.

It's been six days now so I'm starting to relax a little. Maybe the police won't be banging on my door after all.

Joey adores his new baby sister so we're hoping everything will work out okay. When anyone asks, we say the baby was adopted through my brother in America. He know someone who can get us the necessary false documents so that'll be a big relief.

We've decided to name her April.