This is my HORRORscope on this Halloween:
You are often a lot like a master of Zen who doesn't say anything to their pupils for months, until the day the pupils begin not to believe anymore, and find themselves becoming indifferent to the whole thing. Then the Zen master pronounces one or two phrases that are so incredibly true that no one knows what to say! As for you, dear Aquarius, you could be that Zen master today.
Hmm...now let me just think of something wise to say before you lose interest....hmmmm
hmmm...still thinking.....
...............................................................
Friday, October 31, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Math
For someone who isn't very good at math and generally dislikes numbers, I realize I have a lot of them in my blog.
Just sayin'....
Weird.
Just sayin'....
Weird.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Music Minute: Let It Rock
HOLY! FReAkiN! CoW! I lurve this song!
FIRE!
ALIVE!
YES!
Excuse me while I dance like a wild banshee...
**************************dance mode****************************
Sing it with me, People:
When I arrive
I, I bring the fire
Make you come alive
FIRE!
ALIVE!
YES!
Excuse me while I dance like a wild banshee...
**************************dance mode****************************
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Sorrow for Gwynnethe
Gwennethe,
Just a quick note to say I'm ever sorry for your loss. Losing a parent, a father, is an abysmal void. I pray for you. For him. For your family. I pray that you all know the Comfort of God and the Peace of God.
Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your pain....I do hope I eased it some, and please know that I've carried the load somewhat for you for a spell (even if you couldn't tell).
Ever friends,
~J
Just a quick note to say I'm ever sorry for your loss. Losing a parent, a father, is an abysmal void. I pray for you. For him. For your family. I pray that you all know the Comfort of God and the Peace of God.
Thank you for allowing me to be a part of your pain....I do hope I eased it some, and please know that I've carried the load somewhat for you for a spell (even if you couldn't tell).
Ever friends,
~J
Monday, October 20, 2008
Death
D-E-A-T-H has been dancing around me for about week or so now.
Last week, I learned of six deaths of people I know - either their family members or they were friends of friends (you know the kind of people that you've never met but you're affected anyway because the person whose relating the story to you is majorly affected).
And they were bizarre or unexpected deaths. One of them even made the national news. By searching the net, it appears to actually be an AP blurb in world news because it was a tragic event in Mexico.
All these stories have me really weirded out -- to the point where I'm borderline paranoid that death will unexpectedly befall me.
Last Friday, I left work with my desk in superneat order so that if I died someone would be able to know exactly what I was working on; and there were no random personal notes that someone would need to follow up on (I better check again, though).
Then I got to thinking: What will happen to my blog? All my internet subscriptions and email? No one has the passwords or logins to my sites. What does blogger do when someone dies? Do they clean out blogs after a set amount of time has elapsed of no logging in? Or does this become a part of cyberspaceliteraryjunk and stays forever and ever and ever?
Just thinkin'.....
Last week, I learned of six deaths of people I know - either their family members or they were friends of friends (you know the kind of people that you've never met but you're affected anyway because the person whose relating the story to you is majorly affected).
And they were bizarre or unexpected deaths. One of them even made the national news. By searching the net, it appears to actually be an AP blurb in world news because it was a tragic event in Mexico.
All these stories have me really weirded out -- to the point where I'm borderline paranoid that death will unexpectedly befall me.
Last Friday, I left work with my desk in superneat order so that if I died someone would be able to know exactly what I was working on; and there were no random personal notes that someone would need to follow up on (I better check again, though).
Then I got to thinking: What will happen to my blog? All my internet subscriptions and email? No one has the passwords or logins to my sites. What does blogger do when someone dies? Do they clean out blogs after a set amount of time has elapsed of no logging in? Or does this become a part of cyberspaceliteraryjunk and stays forever and ever and ever?
Just thinkin'.....
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Out of Controlishness
My food's been really wild-ass. I am obsessing way too much. And acting on it. I look at myself in the mirror or in pictures and am mortified to be built like this these days. I have a roll around my mid-section. I'm up another size. I feel so grotesque.
I'm incredibly out of control with my emotions, too. Confused, confused, confused. I hate this. Really, I couldn't be more uncomfortable. I'm trying to acknowledge it and call it by name, but it's been so long since I've done that, that I'm out of practice. I know I'm failing at it because I'm still drowning myself in food.
Sometimes I truly wish I was an alcoholic or a gambler or something. At least you can stay away from those vices, those addictions.
I have stuffed down my feelings for a long time. My therapist tells me I'm angry. I don't consider myself an angry person. Then a friend of mine told me I have passive anger. I'm thinking there's some truth to that. So, I'm trying to find my angryself. I'm very afraid of that notion because certainly she can't be rational.
My husband says that women can't cry and be rational at the same time. I think I've proven to him that his belief is wrong. I wonder if angry people can be rational. I suspect the answer is 'no'. I don't want to be irrational. I certainly don't want to eat over it.
I need a safe place. A place where I can go and have my fit and get it out. Therapy helps a some. When I go there, often I leave feeling like I need to puke.
I have written letters to RR. She's seen the most honest and brutal parts, but even still, I am holding something back. I don't know *how* to be angry like that. I want to journal by doing some physical handwriting but I don't want anyone to read it, and I don't trust my environment. I want to write it out even if it's nonsense. I know journaling can be cathartic. I've actually sent journals to friends and asked them not to open the box -- to keep them for safe keeping. Then I retrieve them and destroy them. Journaling is such a crazy thing. Craziness can come out while journaling. I sometimes wonder if I were to die unexpectedly if my journals might make me famous. (But then I have a reality check. She slaps me in the face and reminds me how uninteresting I am, especially in today's world where it's so hard to carve out some uniqueness.)
It's times like this that I really ponder going back to twelve step meetings. I wish the meetings were at times more convenient to me (10 p.m.-ish). As it is, I miss so much of my kid's lives, that I can't bear the thought of going to another commitment and missing still more time from their lives. I do miss the meetings, though. My food was so good after a while. I practiced the tools of calling RR and letting her talk me through a binge. I used the tool of reading literature -- the same books that I recently pulled out of a drawer and stacked on my bedside table. I was working out then. I need to get back. But I have to have accountability. It's the way I'm wired. I'm not self-disciplined enough to do it alone.
I hate food. Loathe it. The more I try to resist it, the more I want to have it in my mouth. There's so much going on in my house and so much crappy food comes and goes through this house that I am feeling defeated. I hate food. Food clearly hates me, too. We are members of the Mutual Admiration Society. Sadly, there are far too many meetings....
It should be easy, right? It should be easy to grab an apple for breakfast (and eat it -- not just put it on my desk for show then throw it out a week later after it has rotted). It should suffice to eat only a salad for lunch. (That's what skinny girls do.) Seems easy. And what about dinner? There are actually people out there who skip dinner. Or, even better, FORGET to eat it! (wft?!) I wish I could go a day in my life and 'forget' to eat....
Writing tonight has helped me not go out to my kitchen and grab a funsize bag of m n m's. Thanks for reading....I need to go to sleep before I *do* find my way out there and eat.
Grrrrr... (<~~~ that's not my stomach growling, btw)
I'm incredibly out of control with my emotions, too. Confused, confused, confused. I hate this. Really, I couldn't be more uncomfortable. I'm trying to acknowledge it and call it by name, but it's been so long since I've done that, that I'm out of practice. I know I'm failing at it because I'm still drowning myself in food.
Sometimes I truly wish I was an alcoholic or a gambler or something. At least you can stay away from those vices, those addictions.
I have stuffed down my feelings for a long time. My therapist tells me I'm angry. I don't consider myself an angry person. Then a friend of mine told me I have passive anger. I'm thinking there's some truth to that. So, I'm trying to find my angryself. I'm very afraid of that notion because certainly she can't be rational.
My husband says that women can't cry and be rational at the same time. I think I've proven to him that his belief is wrong. I wonder if angry people can be rational. I suspect the answer is 'no'. I don't want to be irrational. I certainly don't want to eat over it.
I need a safe place. A place where I can go and have my fit and get it out. Therapy helps a some. When I go there, often I leave feeling like I need to puke.
I have written letters to RR. She's seen the most honest and brutal parts, but even still, I am holding something back. I don't know *how* to be angry like that. I want to journal by doing some physical handwriting but I don't want anyone to read it, and I don't trust my environment. I want to write it out even if it's nonsense. I know journaling can be cathartic. I've actually sent journals to friends and asked them not to open the box -- to keep them for safe keeping. Then I retrieve them and destroy them. Journaling is such a crazy thing. Craziness can come out while journaling. I sometimes wonder if I were to die unexpectedly if my journals might make me famous. (But then I have a reality check. She slaps me in the face and reminds me how uninteresting I am, especially in today's world where it's so hard to carve out some uniqueness.)
It's times like this that I really ponder going back to twelve step meetings. I wish the meetings were at times more convenient to me (10 p.m.-ish). As it is, I miss so much of my kid's lives, that I can't bear the thought of going to another commitment and missing still more time from their lives. I do miss the meetings, though. My food was so good after a while. I practiced the tools of calling RR and letting her talk me through a binge. I used the tool of reading literature -- the same books that I recently pulled out of a drawer and stacked on my bedside table. I was working out then. I need to get back. But I have to have accountability. It's the way I'm wired. I'm not self-disciplined enough to do it alone.
I hate food. Loathe it. The more I try to resist it, the more I want to have it in my mouth. There's so much going on in my house and so much crappy food comes and goes through this house that I am feeling defeated. I hate food. Food clearly hates me, too. We are members of the Mutual Admiration Society. Sadly, there are far too many meetings....
It should be easy, right? It should be easy to grab an apple for breakfast (and eat it -- not just put it on my desk for show then throw it out a week later after it has rotted). It should suffice to eat only a salad for lunch. (That's what skinny girls do.) Seems easy. And what about dinner? There are actually people out there who skip dinner. Or, even better, FORGET to eat it! (wft?!) I wish I could go a day in my life and 'forget' to eat....
Writing tonight has helped me not go out to my kitchen and grab a funsize bag of m n m's. Thanks for reading....I need to go to sleep before I *do* find my way out there and eat.
Grrrrr... (<~~~ that's not my stomach growling, btw)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
It's Pretty Weird Inside My Head Today
I am not sure I could feel more jarbled.
One year ago today, my mother moved to Dallas. I am so glad she's here. You might recall that I was a little nervous about her coming and how we'd get along. I think it hurts her feelings that I felt that way, but it's not my intention to hurt her feelings (sorry Mom). I have to be honest with how I feel, and that means the risk of hurting others comes along like a bad hangover from cheap tequila. Anyway, she's here. I don't get to see her often enough. She put in her dues, though, let me tell you. She was driving here never realizing her life would change forever and she'd make some real sacrifices for me, my family. She became the primary caregiver for my mother in law and my kids while my husband pieced together the goings-on of his parents accident and I worked and did I don't know what...
This leads to the reminder of the OTHER anniversary: The Accident.
Yeah...that horrible, horrible day that has scarred all of us in one way or another. That event that persecuted some of us, freed others. That moment in time when we all were nose-to-nose with our own mortality. Nothing short of a miracle has occurred in the last year. My father in law is alive and doing reasonably well. My mother in law is 100% recovered and driving again. My mother's joined a bowling league. There is still chaos. There is loads and loads of frustration, exasperation, desperation. Piles of heavy emotional weight bear down on our shoulders in different ways. Each of us try immensely to bolster our own weight and lighten the load of others around us. We function, mostly. Thankfully, glimmers of hope have shone; smiles have been created and sustained, laughter has been echoed.
I was at church today and I was praying about the aforementioned. Mass starts. Old Testament reading. New Testament reading. Gospel reading.
Gospel
Mt 22:1-14 or 22:1-10
Jesus again in reply spoke to the chief priests and elders of the people in parables, saying, "The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a kingwho gave a wedding feast for his son. He dispatched his servants to summon the invited guests to the feast, but they refused to come. A second time he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those invited: 'Behold, I have prepared my banquet, my calves and fattened cattle are killed, and everything is ready; come to the feast.”’ Some ignored the invitation and went away, one to his farm, another to his business. The rest laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.
The king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, 'The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roadsand invite to the feast whomever you find.’
The servants went out into the streetsand gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to meet the guests, he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment*. The king said to him, 'My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?' But he was reduced to silence.
Then the king said to his attendants, 'Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.’
Many are invited, but few are chosen."
It might be seen as a frightening passage. I didn't understand why the one man who attended, dressed inappropriately, would be so harshly punished. Then, My Favorite Priest verbalized the message to me.
I melted.
Tears welled in my eyes.
This reading, my friends, is the same reading that called me to conversion. I heard the message of being invited to the Feast yet I had been to busy to acknowledge it...until that day. That day when it befell my ears three years ago. It fell in line with the week the JK asked me to be the Godmother to her firstborn baby by taping a sign to her very pregnant belly and waddling over to me. The sign said "Will you be my Godmommy?" I cried. Then I knew. I *knew*. I had been invited and THIS TIME, I would accept. I wasn't allowed to be JMK's Godmommy because at that time I wasn't Catholic. But, I am KK's Godmommy (thanks JK and MK).
So....here I am sitting in awe of the events of the day and it's not even 10 a.m. yet. So much of me wanted to bow my chest and walk proudly out into the glorious day bearing witness of survival, conversion, fortitude. Another part of me yearned to crawl under a rock, to isolate and just lay in the lap of God and be held.
I've had a great day. And I'm thankful for it. For all the pain, the strife, the growth. I am humbled and honored. I am hopeful for the future.
But, it's still weird inside my head today.
* represents someone unwilling to change/be converted
One year ago today, my mother moved to Dallas. I am so glad she's here. You might recall that I was a little nervous about her coming and how we'd get along. I think it hurts her feelings that I felt that way, but it's not my intention to hurt her feelings (sorry Mom). I have to be honest with how I feel, and that means the risk of hurting others comes along like a bad hangover from cheap tequila. Anyway, she's here. I don't get to see her often enough. She put in her dues, though, let me tell you. She was driving here never realizing her life would change forever and she'd make some real sacrifices for me, my family. She became the primary caregiver for my mother in law and my kids while my husband pieced together the goings-on of his parents accident and I worked and did I don't know what...
This leads to the reminder of the OTHER anniversary: The Accident.
Yeah...that horrible, horrible day that has scarred all of us in one way or another. That event that persecuted some of us, freed others. That moment in time when we all were nose-to-nose with our own mortality. Nothing short of a miracle has occurred in the last year. My father in law is alive and doing reasonably well. My mother in law is 100% recovered and driving again. My mother's joined a bowling league. There is still chaos. There is loads and loads of frustration, exasperation, desperation. Piles of heavy emotional weight bear down on our shoulders in different ways. Each of us try immensely to bolster our own weight and lighten the load of others around us. We function, mostly. Thankfully, glimmers of hope have shone; smiles have been created and sustained, laughter has been echoed.
I was at church today and I was praying about the aforementioned. Mass starts. Old Testament reading. New Testament reading. Gospel reading.
Gospel
Mt 22:1-14 or 22:1-10
Jesus again in reply spoke to the chief priests and elders of the people in parables, saying, "The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a kingwho gave a wedding feast for his son. He dispatched his servants to summon the invited guests to the feast, but they refused to come. A second time he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those invited: 'Behold, I have prepared my banquet, my calves and fattened cattle are killed, and everything is ready; come to the feast.”’ Some ignored the invitation and went away, one to his farm, another to his business. The rest laid hold of his servants, mistreated them, and killed them.
The king was enraged and sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his servants, 'The feast is ready, but those who were invited were not worthy to come. Go out, therefore, into the main roadsand invite to the feast whomever you find.’
The servants went out into the streetsand gathered all they found, bad and good alike, and the hall was filled with guests. But when the king came in to meet the guests, he saw a man there not dressed in a wedding garment*. The king said to him, 'My friend, how is it that you came in here without a wedding garment?' But he was reduced to silence.
Then the king said to his attendants, 'Bind his hands and feet, and cast him into the darkness outside, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.’
Many are invited, but few are chosen."
It might be seen as a frightening passage. I didn't understand why the one man who attended, dressed inappropriately, would be so harshly punished. Then, My Favorite Priest verbalized the message to me.
I melted.
Tears welled in my eyes.
This reading, my friends, is the same reading that called me to conversion. I heard the message of being invited to the Feast yet I had been to busy to acknowledge it...until that day. That day when it befell my ears three years ago. It fell in line with the week the JK asked me to be the Godmother to her firstborn baby by taping a sign to her very pregnant belly and waddling over to me. The sign said "Will you be my Godmommy?" I cried. Then I knew. I *knew*. I had been invited and THIS TIME, I would accept. I wasn't allowed to be JMK's Godmommy because at that time I wasn't Catholic. But, I am KK's Godmommy (thanks JK and MK).
So....here I am sitting in awe of the events of the day and it's not even 10 a.m. yet. So much of me wanted to bow my chest and walk proudly out into the glorious day bearing witness of survival, conversion, fortitude. Another part of me yearned to crawl under a rock, to isolate and just lay in the lap of God and be held.
I've had a great day. And I'm thankful for it. For all the pain, the strife, the growth. I am humbled and honored. I am hopeful for the future.
But, it's still weird inside my head today.
* represents someone unwilling to change/be converted
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Scenes from The State Fair of Texas
It's become a bit of birthday tradition that I take My Eldest to the State Fair of Texas since her birthday falls at the time while the Fair is fairing. This year, we were not able to go on her actual birthday because I was going out of town that day. My trip was not going to hinder our desires to get out there and enjoy some Fall sunshine.I suspect the Texas State Fair is not unlike most state fairs, but I don't have anything to compare it to since I've never been to any other state's fair. I suspect most of them have kidways, midways, rides, stuffed animals, sand art, expensive beer and food, carnies, music from around the world, deep fried all-kinds-of-things (oreos, peanut butter and jelly sammiches, jellybellys, ice cream, etc.) It's gross, really. Gross. Throw in the funnel cakes, turkey legs (on steroids), cotton candy. This year we tried DOTS ice cream. It's amazingness in all gloryness enveloped in freezingness. Teeny tiny beeds of ice cream. Admittedly, I have a soft spot in my heart for a Fletcher's jalepeno corny dog. Two football games are played during the fair time: Grambling versus Prairie View and University of Texas, Austin versus University of Oklahoma Sooners. (If you're a Texas fan, you refer to it as the Texas/OU game; if you're an OU fan, you call it the OU/Texas game. So funny...)
There are three, what I would consider, hallmarks of The Great State Fair of Texas:
ONE: Big Tex
Yes, he's B I G!
Yes, he's B I G!
Big Tex bellows out welcome greetings (Howdy Boys and Girls! Welcome to the State Faiiiiiir of Texas). He occasionally throws in a few advertisements of booth vendors or sponsors. His shirt has a "DICKIES" the size of Delaware on it for goodness sakes! Sadly, he's gone yellow (or as we say 'round these parts: yella). His shirt was changed this year. I think it washes him out, but what do I know? (What I love about this picture is that I've captured my three hallmarks in one photo!)
TWO: The Cotton Bowl
In Texas, Cotton IS King.
No picture needed of the Cotton Bowl (yes THAT Cotton Bowl. It's on the fairgrounds, silly!), but suffice it to say that the over 92K folks that showed up during to the newly renovated Cotton Bowl during Texas/OU weekend's Red River Shoot Out (one of the most revered rivalries in all college football) is evidence that the Cotton Bowl is a staple of this area, the Fair and the schools. My Eldest couldn't help but throw up the hook 'em horns as we walked by the Cotton Bowl, though:
THREE: The Texas Star
The Ride of a Lifetime
The Ride of a Lifetime
Okay. Here's where I get weird.
I LOVE this ferris wheel. Actually, I love how big it is, that it says in those sparkling, alluring twinkles "TEXAS STAR". It's giant! GiNORMous! Captivating. I've taken several photos of it.
Yet, oddly, I've never ridden it.
Don't get me wrong -- I *want* to ride it. I will. Someday.
For now, I'll just live in awe and dream of being in union with it....
Look at it! Isn't she amazing? *sighs dreamily*
Y'all gotta come some time....
Whoosh!
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
An American Girl Turns Eight
Tomorrow My Eldest turns eight.Tomorrow I am flying out of town for a work conference.
Tomorrow I will wake up extra early and go buy some donuts, stack them in a pyramid, plug in eight candles, light them, wake her and then sing her "Happy Birthday" before I leave for work.
Today, she was out of school.
Today, I took the day off.
Today, we celebrated her birthday in a most girlie way.
Today, we went to the American Girl Bistro and Boutique and it was really more special that I expected, truthfully. My Eldest loves reading but hasn't really latched on to this particular set of books that explore the lives of girls in different periods of U.S. history.
My plan was to take her to lunch at the bistro -- and we did that -- lots of good food and fun (except for the overly tired, missing-her-nap Little One, who cried and cried and cried for a spell but quickly quit when I warned her I would take her home if she didn't quit crying). My Mom, Little One, myself and Birthday Girl feasted on chicken satay, spinach & artichoke dip and pretzels dipped in queso or honey mustard sauce until the main entrees were served. Mini hot dogs, mini cheesburgers, turkey cobb salad and a panini were our main courses. We filled our bellies then headed to the downscalator to the boutique to shop.
My Eldest hasn't been much "into" dolls. She has Barbies and Polly Pockets. She's recieved some nice dolls from 'round the world. The LP's sent her a doll from Peru and she took a liking to it for a time. This year, the LP's sent her (the very coolest!) reversible doll from St. Lucia. Anyway, I wasn't sure if she'd like that my surprise for her birthday was to buy her an American Girl doll.....
Well, let me tell you, she was surprised AND "into" it!
She ended up picking Elizabeth Cole from the year 1774 -- during the American Revolution era. She even bought -with her OWN money- a box of earrings for Elizabeth. I threw in a halloween mermaid costume for the doll.
I love you, ladybug.
xo
P.S. Could there be ANY.MORE.PINK. in this experience?!
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Heroic Words
Today at work, I was told something amazing, and I just had to share it.
There's a friend of mine, he works in my employer's SAP support group. We've collaborated on some projects in the past but don't get the chance to interact professionally or personally much anymore (sadly).
Admittedly at first, I thought he was pretty cocky. And we had a major mishap on an IRS tax reporting function one year, partly his fault, partly mine. Once I discovered this mastermind flubbed up my process (that's how I saw it at the time), I was decidedly angry at him and did NOT want to be his friend OR co-worker!
Now, a few years later, some hours together on other IRS-related projects, we have a mutual admiration for each other. I truly respect him at work. I also adore him on a personal level.
When I call him for help, I tell him he's my hero of the day.
Today, I needed a quick fix from him and several voices began to intermingle with him on speaker phone. He hung up without saying good-bye as I was thanking him. He sounded really irritated. Put out. Annoyed.
Later, I send him an instant message apologizing for irritating him and he asked me about it. He cleared up that he indeed was not irritated and we talked through it briefly. At the end, he said:
WOW.
Now THOSE are words only a true hero would utter. Thanks RH. *muah!*
There's a friend of mine, he works in my employer's SAP support group. We've collaborated on some projects in the past but don't get the chance to interact professionally or personally much anymore (sadly).
Admittedly at first, I thought he was pretty cocky. And we had a major mishap on an IRS tax reporting function one year, partly his fault, partly mine. Once I discovered this mastermind flubbed up my process (that's how I saw it at the time), I was decidedly angry at him and did NOT want to be his friend OR co-worker!
Now, a few years later, some hours together on other IRS-related projects, we have a mutual admiration for each other. I truly respect him at work. I also adore him on a personal level.
When I call him for help, I tell him he's my hero of the day.
Today, I needed a quick fix from him and several voices began to intermingle with him on speaker phone. He hung up without saying good-bye as I was thanking him. He sounded really irritated. Put out. Annoyed.
Later, I send him an instant message apologizing for irritating him and he asked me about it. He cleared up that he indeed was not irritated and we talked through it briefly. At the end, he said:
You know I would move the stars for you.
WOW.
Now THOSE are words only a true hero would utter. Thanks RH. *muah!*
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