Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale
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INCLUDING AN EXCLUSIVE CONVERSATION BETWEEN MERYL STREEP AND ANNA QUINDLEN

“[Quindlen] serves up generous portions of her wise, commonsensical, irresistibly quotable take on life. . . . What Nora Ephron does for body image and Anne Lamott for spiritual neuroses, Quindlen achieves on the home front.”—NPR
 
In this irresistible memoir, Anna Quindlen writes about a woman’s life, from childhood memories to manic motherhood to middle age, using the events of her life to illuminate ours. Considering—and celebrating—everything from marriage, girlfriends, our mothers, parenting, faith, loss, to all the stuff in our closets, and more, Quindlen says for us here what we may wish we could have said ourselves. As she did in her beloved New York Times columns, and in A Short Guide to a Happy Life, Quindlen uses her past, present, and future to explore what matters most to women at different ages. Quindlen talks about
 
Marriage: “A safety net of small white lies can be the bedrock of a successful marriage. You wouldn’t believe how cheaply I can do a kitchen renovation.”
 
Girlfriends: “Ask any woman how she makes it through the day, and she may mention her calendar, her to-do lists, her babysitter. But if you push her on how she really makes it through her day, she will mention her girlfriends. ”
 
Our bodies: “I’ve finally recognized my body for what it is: a personality-delivery system, designed expressly to carry my character from place to place, now and in the years to come.”
 
Parenting: “Being a parent is not transactional. We do not get what we give. It is the ultimate pay-it-forward endeavor: We are good parents not so they will be loving enough to stay with us but so they will be strong enough to leave us.”
 
Candid, funny, and moving, Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake is filled with the sharp insights and revealing observations that have long confirmed Quindlen’s status as America’s laureate of real life.
 
“Classic Quindlen, at times witty, at times wise, and always of her time.”—The Miami Herald
 
“[A] pithy, get-real memoir.”—Booklist
 
Look for special features inside. Join the Random House Reader’s Circle for author chats and more.

Review

“[Quindlen] serves up generous portions of her wise, commonsensical, irresistibly quotable take on life. . . . What Nora Ephron does for body image and Anne Lamott for spiritual neuroses, Quindlen achieves on the home front.”—NPR
 
“Classic Quindlen, at times witty, at times wise, and always of her time.” —The Miami Herald
 
“[A] pithy, get-real memoir.”— Booklist

Praise for Anna Quindlen
 
“A reporter by training, a storyteller at heart, [Quindlen’s] writing is personal, humorous, and thought-provoking.”— The Seattle Post-Intelligencer
 
“Quindlen is an astonishingly graceful writer.”— San Francisco Examiner
 
“Thank goodness for Anna Quindlen. [She] is smart. And compassionate. And witty. And wise.”— Detroit Free-Press
 
“[Quindlen is] America’s resident sane person.”— The New York Times

About the Author

Anna Quindlen is a novelist and journalist whose work has appeared on fiction, nonfiction, and self-help bestseller lists. Her book A Short Guide to a Happy Life has sold more than a million copies. While a columnist at The New York Times she won the Pulitzer Prize and published two collections, Living Out Loud and Thinking Out Loud. Her Newsweek columns were collected in Loud and Clear. She is the author of six novels: Object Lessons, One True Thing, Black and Blue, Blessings, Rise and Shine, and Every Last One.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Stuff
 
 
Time is at once the most valuable and the most perishable of all our possessions.
 
—JOHN RANDOLPH,
colonial member of Congress
 
I have a lot of stuff. I bet you do, too. Sofas, settees, bureaus, bookshelves. Dishes, bowls, pottery, glass, candlesticks, serving trays, paperweights. Beds, chests, trunks, tables. Windsor chairs, club chairs, ladder- back chairs, folding chairs, wicker chairs. Lots and lots of chairs.
 
I have needlepoint pillows everywhere: camels, chickens, cats, houses, barns, libraries, roses, daisies, pansies. I needlepoint while I watch television. I have a vision of my children, after I’m gone, looking around and saying, “What are we going to do with all these pillows?” I don’t mind. My best friend, Janet, has more pillows than I do, and more platters, too. Once I bought some plates and knew instantly that she would love them. “Where did you get those?” she asked, and I lied to her and then bought some for her birthday.
 
“Did she need more plates?” asked my husband, whose idea of need is different from my own.
 
In the city I have lots of stuff on the walls. Modern art, traditional art, landscapes, photographic prints. Eclectic. In the country I have samplers. THE BLESSING OF THE HOME IS CONTENTMENT. THIS IS OUR HOUSE / THE DOOR OPENS WIDE / AND WELCOMES YOU / TO ALL INSIDE. I have a large piece of framed embroidery that shows a woman with bobbed hair and an apron holding a tray with a tea service. A GOOD HOUSEWIFE MAKES A GOOD HOME, this one says. Lots of people who come to our house, knowing my politics, think it’s ironic.
 
It’s not ironic.
 
I didn’t have all this stuff when I was young and single. None of us did. It was a big deal to have blinds and coffee mugs. Many of the guys I knew didn’t; they’d tack a sheet over the bedroom window, drink from Styrofoam. My first apartment was pretty typical; I had a small uncomfortable sleeper sofa, a bentwood rocker, a coffee table that was actually a trunk—didn’t everyone in 1976?—and a set of bookshelves. I was proud of those bookshelves. Many of my friends still used plastic egg crates, or plywood and cinder blocks.
 
In the bedroom I had a chest of drawers and a desk that was too low for an adult, at which I would hunch over my old manual Smith Corona typewriter, my knees contorted beneath. I had swapped the twin bed of my girlhood for a double bed, which children nowadays, raised on queen-size beds from seventh grade, the first generation of middle-class kids who trade down when they arrive in college dorms, can scarcely imagine. I was proud of that double bed. Many of my friends had futons.
 
That was more or less it. My stuff then would all fit in the back of one U-Haul, and not the big one, either. None of us used movers when we changed apartments, just called around and got a group together for pizza and beer and haulage. A lot of stuff wound up on the sidewalk for the sanitation truck.
 
But then we got married and we got carafes, chafing dishes, and china. We bought matching love seats for the living room in the row house that had once been a rooming house. (“Your grandfather worked hard all his life so his grandchildren wouldn’t have to live in a place like this,” my father said, sitting on the stoop, but he still lent us money for the renovation.) I trawled junk shops for oak furniture too old to be new but too young to be antique. I had a brief flirtation with Fiesta ware and Roseville pottery, never met a big old bowl or platter I couldn’t love. When we were in Sicily for his sister’s twentieth birthday and I halted, transfixed, before a window display of Italian pottery, our older son said, deadpan, “Mom, why don’t you get one of those so you can put it on a little stand on a shelf somewhere?” I’d never really thought they’d noticed, much less passed judgment.
 
And that’s not even counting the stuff in my closet. One day I peered inside and realized it looked like it belonged to someone with multiple personality disorder. The bohemian look, the sharp suits, the frilly dresses. Those days are behind me, and I finally know who and how I’m dressing. I’m dressing a person who has eighteen pairs of black pants and eleven pairs of black pumps. Of course, that number is illusory, since it includes the black pants I never felt looked great but purchased on sale, the pair that never seem to be the right length, and the two pairs that fit funny. Not too big or too small, just funny. Naturally there are two pairs of the shoes that I wear all the time, because they’re comfortable, and one pair that I wear on occasion because they are great-looking and my toes don’t go entirely numb for at least three hours.
 
I prefer not to dwell on the purses and the white T-shirts. You know, fashion magazines always say you can never have too many white T-shirts.
 
Yes, you can.
 
It wasn’t always like this, was it? At some point in America, desire and need became untethered in our lives, and shopping became a competitive sport. I can’t recall my mother spending much time spending, although of course she predated that black hole of consumption, the shopping website. It was generally agreed in our family that my grandmother Quindlen was a world-class shopper, and there was a much-repeated, often-embellished story about one of my aunts arriving early enough at a big sale to score a spot at the front of the line and still finding my grandmother already inside the store when she’d breached the doors. But there was always an object to the hunt: a Hitchcock chair, a pair of Naturalizer pumps. Sometimes I feel as though credit cards have helped us concentrate on quantity, not quality; the other day a financial adviser on TV said that if people were using cash for purchases, they tended to be much more abstemious. Plastic is magical, as though the bill will never come due.
 
I have too much plastic, too, in my wallet.
 
What do we notice when we drive down the highways of our adolescence and measure what’s changed? We now have the big-box stores, the home emporiums, the fast-food places, certainly, but the weirdest addition is the thousands of storage facilities that loom, bunkerlike, windowless. When we were kids, storage was the basement and attic, a broken chair, an army trunk. Today we rent facilities for the stuff we’re not currently using, probably will never use again.
 
Statisticians say our houses are almost twice as large, on average, as they were forty years ago. So much stuff, rotating rooms of it: cribs, big-boy beds, changing tables, desks, new linens, new window treatments, new rugs. When my kids got their own places, they went shopping in the junk shops in the top and bottom stories of our own homes. My husband says that when you go to their apartments it’s like a walk down Memory Lane, that little table we never really found a place for, the coffee mugs that take both of us right back to the era when there was scarcely time for coffee because someone always needed a glass of milk or a story read. “Take more!” I kept saying, but they demurred, not wanting to seem greedy. The odd frying pan, the chipped bowls. Quin cleans, Christopher cooks. Chris called one night and asked how to drain spaghetti if you don’t have one of those things with the holes in it. Next time he came over I gave him one of my four colanders. Or maybe it’s five. I like the old enameled ones.
 
The nicest thing you can say to me about my home is that it’s homey, and people say it all the time. I like it. And at a certain point, I can’t say when, I realized I didn’t really give a damn about any of it. If there were a fire, what would I save? We all used to say it was the photo albums, but with digital photography we all have our photographs on our computers, on Facebook, in emails to our families and friends. My cookbooks are well thumbed, but I know the best recipes by heart now, and the bad recipes I’ve either discarded or adapted.
 
I can’t even say I would reach for the wedding album; it seems so long ago, and so many of our friends didn’t come into our lives until afterward. There’s a porcelain bird I gave my mother the Christmas before she died, which she owned for less than a month, that I’ve wrapped carefully in tissue and taken with me from the small apartment to the bigger apartment to the brownstone to the nicer brownstone. There are the letters my kids write each year to Santa Claus, even now that they no longer watch me seal them in envelopes and address them to S. Claus, North Pole, 99705 (which is really the zip code of North Pole, Alaska, not the real North Pole), even now that my daughter has learned to write to Santa online and to insert a web link so you can click on the letter to Santa and go directly to the dress she wants from Saks in the correct size and color. There’s the mink coat my husband gave me when our first child was born, which I haven’t worn for years because our kids are bothered by fur but which I treasure because it made me feel prosperous, elegant, and wifelike for perhaps the first time.
 
If there were a fire I’d probably just grab a few old pictures and the Labradors. I’d be wearing the watch and the rings my husband gave me for the big birthdays. I haven’t removed my wedding ring since the day he put it on me and the priest blessed it. I’d miss the rest, but I wouldn’t mourn it. Except for the Christmas ornaments, I guess. My entire family is pretty attached to the Christmas ornaments.

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4.3 out of 54.3 out of 5
903 global ratings

Top reviews from the United States

Florida Flamingo
2.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Mediocre Showing for a Great Talent
Reviewed in the United States on July 12, 2014
I am a fan of Ann Quindlen, and have been reading her columns and books for years. I actually read this book when it was first published and then reread it for a recent book club discussion. Unlike most of her other works, I just couldn''t relate to what she prattled on... See more
I am a fan of Ann Quindlen, and have been reading her columns and books for years. I actually read this book when it was first published and then reread it for a recent book club discussion. Unlike most of her other works, I just couldn''t relate to what she prattled on about either time I read it, though we are of the same generation and lived similar lives. Part of the reason is that I find it hard to relate to someone who makes megabucks as a writer and whose husband makes megabucks as a high-powered attorney. My bet is that she has the resources to handle the day-to-day crises most of us do not. So, why is she complaining? How many of us have townhouses in New York City and acres of land in the country? Also, I find it almost to be bragging when she relates her physical prowess. Wish I could afford personal trainers, Pilates classes, etc. My bet is I could do a handstand as well with that kind of fire power urging me on.

All that said, she is still a good writer. Her works are compelling reads, even if you cannot relate to what she is writing about. But please, Ms. Quindlen, don''t pretend to be one of us who are really in the trenches of life and have to muddle through without all the privileges your well-earned riches can afford.

Unlike her novels, I find this book to be a yawn and not worthy of her talents. Could it be she was looking for a way to recycle her previous columns or unwritten essays?
34 people found this helpful
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C. Hawks
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Interesting and entertaining
Reviewed in the United States on May 26, 2021
I purchased this book because a friend who is writing a memoir book used it as one of his inspirations/models from which to find his style. He asked me to be an editor on his book, so I bought this book to see where he was coming from. I found the book to be engaging,... See more
I purchased this book because a friend who is writing a memoir book used it as one of his inspirations/models from which to find his style. He asked me to be an editor on his book, so I bought this book to see where he was coming from. I found the book to be engaging, entertaining and, while the author presents her points of view, she never attempts to convince or persuade the reader. Instead, she shares experiences and how they influenced her. Chapters are short and easily digestible, making it easy to read over many or few sittings.

It was also interesting to read a woman''s point of view on the many common life events and experiences I share, since I am roughly the same age as the author. If you like memoirs and life''s little lesson books, this one won''t disappoint. Nothing too deep or heavy, some good chuckle points with a few compassion opportunities as well.
A nice read.
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Mary Langer Thompson
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
A Musing Memoir
Reviewed in the United States on November 30, 2020
I enjoyed this memoir, but it was not gripping. In the beginning I didn''t relate, maybe because I am older than Anna Quindlen, but I kept reading and found her musings on life, motherhood, and mortality intriguing. There are a few contradictions. She doesn''t believe in an... See more
I enjoyed this memoir, but it was not gripping. In the beginning I didn''t relate, maybe because I am older than Anna Quindlen, but I kept reading and found her musings on life, motherhood, and mortality intriguing. There are a few contradictions. She doesn''t believe in an afterlife, but says she''s a positive person. I don''t think the Meryl Streep interview added anything; in fact, Streep''s false modesty ("I''m not a writer . . . ) is irritating. I did like the discussion questions at the end and think that women''s groups will find the questions fascinating. Overall, this is an honest book, and I''m glad I stuck with it all the way through.
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sb-lynn
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
observations and reflections of life at age 60
Reviewed in the United States on May 5, 2012
This memoir consists of chapters or essays written by Anna Quindlen as she reflects back on her life. If you''ve read her before, you know she is skilled at expressing her observations of the world around her. She is now 60 years old. She is still married to her college... See more
This memoir consists of chapters or essays written by Anna Quindlen as she reflects back on her life. If you''ve read her before, you know she is skilled at expressing her observations of the world around her. She is now 60 years old. She is still married to her college sweetheart, she has 3 healthy and happy chlldren and she herself is in good health and exercises. And she knows how lucky she is to be where she is at.

Anna Quindlen''s mother died when she was in her early 40''s and Anna was only 19. This (obviously) affected Anna''s life in many ways, not the least of which she became mindful and aware of death and loss at such an early age. Once she reached the age at which her mother died, she viewed every day beyond that as a gift of sorts.

I really enjoyed this book, and there were chapters that had me shaking my head in agreement and understanding. I am younger than she is (not by much), but her observations about friendship, health, family and ultimately death are all things I have experienced and thought about as well. I find that as I have gotten older I have sought out books like this - maybe because it''s human nature to want to feel that what we are experiencing and thinking is not all that unique to us but shared by others. It''s both comforting and enlightening and although we are not hardwired to be thankful every moment of every day, books like this remind us to make the life we have now as rewarding as possible.

There was one passage in the book where the author talks about her mother dying in her 40''s and how she (the author) had felt at the time, that her mother had lived a full life. Now she realizes her mother really only lived half her life. This made me smile in recognition, because I had a best friend die at the age of 16 from leukemia. There were three of us and we were called the Three Musketeers. When Beverly died, my other best friend and I actually had a conversation where we said "At least Beverly lived a full life." Because she had gotten her driver''s license! But so are the thoughts of youth.

As Ms. Quindlen points out, these years of our lives truly can be the best - if we stay in good health and focus on what we have. I think she''s right.
10 people found this helpful
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NANA
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Don’t miss Anna Quindlen!
Reviewed in the United States on September 27, 2021
I heartily recommend that all of us Baby Boomers treat ourselves to Anna’s memoirs book, written while she was in her 60’s, like I. I could see myself so clearly w/ every page turn, and she presents her past and insights so positively w/ good humor. BUT don’t stop w/ her... See more
I heartily recommend that all of us Baby Boomers treat ourselves to Anna’s memoirs book, written while she was in her 60’s, like I. I could see myself so clearly w/ every page turn, and she presents her past and insights so positively w/ good humor. BUT don’t stop w/ her memories or her past mag and newspaper columns - she also wrote a novel called “Black andBlue” which is one of my very favorites! Keep it coming at any age, Anna :-)
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Karen Kee
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
One feels "she is just like me" and so we are reading about the life ...
Reviewed in the United States on October 7, 2014
Anna Quindlan never disappoints and that continues with Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. As far back as her New York Times column, Life in the 30''s, this remarkable writer with an unprecedented ability to observe her surroundings has again done just that and again the... See more
Anna Quindlan never disappoints and that continues with Lots of Candles, Plenty of Cake. As far back as her New York Times column, Life in the 30''s, this remarkable writer with an unprecedented ability to observe her surroundings has again done just that and again the subject is her own life. She was "shaky and unsure" that her NY Times column would resonate with the world outside her own home''s walls (all the while striking a loud chord with readers from across the nation whose lives might seem so different from Anna Quindlan''s). This testament to the humble manner she regards her talent makes her seem approachable and made of every day stuff. These stories serve as another glimpse into the life of a woman not unlike the reader''s. One feels "she is just like me" and so we are reading about the life we might have led; this lies in sharp contrast to the biographies of well known personalities whose lives we can hardly imagine or relate to. Anna Quinlan is us and you will love what she sees and hope you can develop the same lens through which she sees such mundane and common events. Pick this book up, you won''t be able to put it down, then you will be ordering the rest of her writings and learning even more about your life!
5 people found this helpful
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Lynne
3.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
A Bit Flat Compared to Other Work ...
Reviewed in the United States on November 24, 2013
Somehow, I found Lots of Candles lacked spark. It seems like a scrambled egg version of Anna''s previous work, although certainly there are passages on her mother''s death or reflections on a former neighbor that resonate anew. Perhaps that''s my problem. I had looked for an... See more
Somehow, I found Lots of Candles lacked spark. It seems like a scrambled egg version of Anna''s previous work, although certainly there are passages on her mother''s death or reflections on a former neighbor that resonate anew. Perhaps that''s my problem. I had looked for an upper, and Lots of Candles seemed more of a downer. ... or a work cranked out to satisfy a book contract.

As a Quindlen fan, I prefer Anna''s fiction, especially One True Thing. If there''s one thing that rings true with Lots of Candles, it''s that no matter how accomplished, this writer never feels sufficiently accomplished.
4 people found this helpful
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Kimberly OC
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
STOP, if you are over 21 YOU MUST READ THIS BOOK!!!!
Reviewed in the United States on August 10, 2013
If I could write a letter to Ms.Quindlen it would go something like this: Dear Anna (in my head we are friends) Thank you for writing the book that changed me. The book that changed the way I look at my child, my work, my marriage, my age, and most... See more
If I could write a letter to Ms.Quindlen it would go something like this:

Dear Anna (in my head we are friends)

Thank you for writing the book that changed me. The book that changed the way I look at my child, my work, my marriage, my age, and most importantly my life. My only question would be...WHY COULDN"T YOU HAVE WRITTEN IT SOONER???

Of course having read the book, I know the answer to that question. Because it wasn''t the right TIME for her to write it. But boy was it the right time for me to read it. Some books just come into your life just when you need them. I first read "The Women''s Room" by Marilyn French at 23. If you can read that as a woman and it not change your entire being, I don''t know what to say. And the same for this book. Of course at 21 I don''t know if I would have found it applicable (God I would love to think so) but in my 40''s I sure do. And thank you thank you for writing it. For giving it to the world.

Kindle is still magic to me and to me, as a writer Anna, you will always be magic too.
3 people found this helpful
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Top reviews from other countries

Ms R teehan
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Thoughtful and thought provoking writing.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on October 24, 2017
This book is a collection of thought provoking essays. Because I have read them all together while waiting for a delayed aircraft the theme of aging seems a little over dominant. However - reference the title and this is apt. These essays are well written and structured....See more
This book is a collection of thought provoking essays. Because I have read them all together while waiting for a delayed aircraft the theme of aging seems a little over dominant. However - reference the title and this is apt. These essays are well written and structured. The author posits her theme is a clear fashion but with personal and literary references which give it an erudite yet sincere aspect. She brings to the fore common life experiences at which I found myself nodding my head. I have just finished one of her novels and I can see how her life especially her childhood experiences have brought depth and richness to her writing. I will be seeking her work out again.
One person found this helpful
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Linda Coe
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Amazing read.
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on May 9, 2017
Absolutely amazing read...one of those books I didn''t want to put down, but not finish either. Cannot recommend it highly enough to someone of my generation....now aged 64!!
One person found this helpful
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Wendy B
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Interesting read
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on October 22, 2017
Enjoyed reading Every Last One recently so decided to buy another Anna Quindlen. This one however is not a novel, more a reflection of her views on life. A thought provoking and interesting read.
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JMS
5.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
A wonderful read
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on January 15, 2018
Love this book and I also love this author. Such an interesting and relevant read - especially if you are a woman of any age. Really useful life lessons. And funny too.
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Amazon Customer
4.0 out of 5 starsVerified Purchase
Nice reading
Reviewed in the United Kingdom on September 5, 2018
Would recommend for everyone coping with "midlife questions". Nice, frank and easy reading. Life like it is. Good and bad, funny and serious. Likeable.
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Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale

Lots online sale of Candles, Plenty high quality of Cake: A Memoir of a Woman's Life outlet sale