Is the internet on Spring Break or what?
New York. I was born here and we visit friends of ours who live in Brooklyn from time to time. And we spent New Year’s 1999-2000 here and it was awesome. I love New York because it is scrappy and busy and loud and made up of all these tiny bright parts – just like me.
Boston. My cousin took me to Boston for the first time the summer that we spent a month with my grandmother in Vermont. We were 13, I think. My mom told me I couldn’t go because my step dad told her he didn’t think it was a good idea. I cried and threw the phone and some how they changed their minds. We rode the T and we went to Filene’s basement. I thought we were the coolest girls in the world.
Vermont. I spent some of the best summers of my life in Vermont on my grandparents farm in a little tiny town called Westminster. The summer that I was ten, my grandfather was already retired from his life as a dairy farmer but he wanted things to seem authentic for his West Coast city grandchildren so he bought seven cows and kept them in the front pasture. Years later my grandmother sold the farm and moved to Brattleboro and we’d visit her and buy tie dyed shoelaces from the tie dye store.
New Hampshire. My grandmother’s cabin was in New Hampshire. Hers was the best cabin because it was the only one built right up to the lake and it sat on top of a huge rock you could jump off of – you didn’t have to wade in through sludgy lake bottom. It spoiled me for all other lakes.
Minnesota. Mr. E went to undergrad at C@rleton so I visited him once there. I still remember I was so disgusted by his apartment that even though I was really hung over I cleaned the entire thing from top to bottom. It took me all day. When he got home that night, he didn’t even notice. That really should have been a sign.
Oregon. I lived in Portland from the time I was 2ish to the time I was 15ish. I always tell people I grew up in Oregon because really I did and then they always cock their head to one side and say “really?” and you can see their perception of you sort of shift, slightly. What does it mean to someone else when you say “I grew up in Oregon?” that prompts this? I’ve always wondered. Recently Mr. E and I went back to visit Portland which I have been speaking of in glowing hushed tones for about nine hundred years now and it just didn’t do for it me. Sometimes maybe you just can’t go back.
Washington. We used to drive to Seattle almost every weekend when my parents were house hunting. I still remember looking at a house with a huge raised wall on one side of the entry way – it was covered with white shag carpeting and you could walk up the steps to the living room and then jump off the edge of the wall back down into the entry way. My brother and I did this over and over again while my parents looked at the rest of the house. They didn’t buy that house.
Vancouver Island, Canada. My dad took us here on vacation – me, my dad, my brother, and my best friend SP. We still refer to that campground as The Slug Pit. I was right in the midst of Anorexia 2000 and I would only eat veggie dogs and Diet Coke. Veggie dogs were hard to come by in Victoria. The only part of the trip that SP and I liked was getting to see the members of Parliament in their wigs. It was warm and dry and there weren’t any slugs and we weren’t around my dad. We begged to go back over and over again. I think we went three times.
France. I visited my mom and my step father in France two summers ago, when I six weeks pregnant with E. I spent the entire two weeks I was there lying on the couch wishing I was dead. I still can’t look at cantaloupe the same way.
Switzerland. My mom took me to the emergency room in Switzerland after I started crying at the thought of the 24 hour flight back to California from France. I still remember how fricking awesome the medical care was in Switzerland. And how the entire toilet seat rotated and disinfected itself after you flushed. And how much better I felt as soon as they gave me the magic anti sick pills that you of course cannot buy in the states. I adore Switzerland. They are very orderly and they have a rule for EVERYTHING and they enjoy the hell out of their orderly rules. My kind of people, the Swiss.
Kansas City. Mr. E and I stayed in Kansas City the night before we flew to Mexico because it was about nine million dollars cheaper to fly from Kansas City than it was to fly from Omaha. I talk often of returning to Kansas City and that is for one reason and one reason only and that is the fried chicken from Stroud’s. The meal we had there was definitely one of the top ten meals of my life, and it was one of those times when you realize you only thought you’d had fried chicken before. It ruined me for any and all fried chicken I’ve encountered since. I am not kidding when I tell you the chicken at Stroud’s is otherworldly and I haven’t even mentioned the mashed potatoes, the green beans, or the cinnamon twists.
Tulum, Playa Del Carmen, Mexico. We went to Tulum and Playa del Carmen on a spring break trip one year, and I loved PdC but Tulum was not for me. It was really really windy and we were staying in an eco resort which was very high on the eco and very low on resort. SP kept plaintively asking “Where are the tiki torches?” I kept stubbing my toes on rocks in the paths because it got dark at about six thirty. After three nights of endless crashing waves and roaring wind and pitch blackness and mosquito netting Mr. E sat straight up in bed and yelled into the darkness “I am in hell!” It’s one of my favorite memories.
Ensenada, Mexico. We went to Ensenada because SP got married there. They don’t really have hotels so we all stayed in houses and our room had the best shower ever. We called it the porn shower because you climbed stairs to get up to it, and then it was this huge square shower and one entire side of it was made of clear glass. And that was the side that faced THE LIVING ROOM. Luckily it had a curtain, but yikes.
Memphis. We went here on our honeymoon, part one. I still remember walking through the quad at U of M and turning to Mr. E and saying “I know where we’ll go! We’ll go to Graceland!” And we did, and it was awesome. We drove from Chicago with a trunk full of wedding presents and every time we stopped to get gas we opened one. Some of them we didn’t put back in the car. When we got to Memphis we were tired and dirty and did I mention tired? And we pulled right up to the Peabody Hotel, the Grand Hotel of the South, and we got out and I sware to god, it was like being a different world. If you ever have a honeymoon, it’s just the most honeymoonest of hotels. I absolutely recommend it. It’s the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in, we never could have afforded it but it was a truly wonderful and amazing and just tremendously thoughtful wedding gift from SP. I think of that time now and I smile, every time. We saw the ducks do their thing and we had room service and they turned down the bed for us when they walked us to our room and they told us that Christina Aguilera had stayed there the night before. Later on we ate fried pickles and peanut butter and banana sandwiches and we had a moment of silence for the King and for Martin and we ate barbeque until we couldn’t hold anymore and then we ate more barbeque and drank pina coladas on the street and we swam in a heart shaped pool and it was the very definition of stupendous.
The Dominican Republic. We went here on our honeymoon part two, to a little teeny town in the Samana Peninsula. It was the first foreign country I’ve ever been to and I loved it. It was the most romantic place I’ve ever been. I truly do believe it was eden on earth, and the whole time we were there I swear candlelight and peacefulness just followed us. Although I will admit I was stressed out because we didn’t speak the language and we didn’t have a car and I did get a little sick of eating chicken, but on the plus side we walked into town and I had a hamburger and some chocolate ice cream that I will never forget for as long as I live. Perfection was attained in that scoop of chocolate ice cream. Also, Mr. E tried to order something to go which is something the Dominicans don’t really do, and he didn’t speak Spanish too well, and so he ended up just gesticulating wildly towards the ocean and yelling “My wife is in the bay! My wife is in the bay” over and over again and then he just walked out with dishes and knives and forks and napkins and two chickens.
New Haven, Connecticut. My sister lives here so I visit from time to time, for parents weekend and such. They have an Ethiopian restaurant that’s so good it makes me want to pee my pants. I swear I could live on those little colored bread rolls for the rest of my natural days.
San Diego. We have family friends who live here. I adore San Diego, because it is a mellow scrappy little beach town at heart and those are my favorite kinds of places. Also, San Diego burritos rule my world.
Chicago & a great deal more of Illinois than I ever wanted to see. I lived in the Chicago suburbs from age 14 to 20 ish, back and forth between college and living with my parents. I do enjoy Chicago but I am not a fan of the winter so sometimes Chicago and I don’t see eye to eye. However, I do count Wrigley Field as one of my favorite places to be in the world. And this is where Mr. E and I got married, on a prairie reserve, out in the middle of the waving grass, and that was pretty great.
Indiana. I went to Indianapolis for Indiana State Reading when I worked for a children’s book company, back in the day. I actually enjoyed Indianapolis more than I thought I would, it had a nice yuppie vibe being cultivated down town, but damn, was it hard to find a beer in the great state of Indiana. And I really needed a beer for most of that trip, let me tell you.
Baltimore, Maryland. I almost went to Johns Hopkins, so I visited here, and one of my favorite people in the whole wide world lives here, so I stayed with him and we ate those little crabs they boil and then dump out on the paper in front of you? I still remember how my mouth burned afterwards. I also wonder, more than I should, how my life would have been different if I had gone to Johns Hopkins. I think it would have been much more my scene, academically, but the East Coast has never really been my bag, so I’m still not sure what I think about that. I just never got the right vibe so I chose UCSC instead.
Santa Cruz, California. Lord, my college years should best remain unspoken, especially since god only knows who’s reading this. But let’s just say I had some really really good times and I have never regretted living it up when I did, and I got really really lucky a couple of times and I am glad that nothing bad ever happened to me because lord, was I stupid when I was 18. I did learn a lot, although almost none of it was in a classroom.
Los Angeles. My grandmother Jackson lived in Los Angeles and I still associate it with some of my happiest childhood memories. The beaches in Santa Monica are my favorite beaches in the world, tar and all.
All over Michigan including the UP. Mr. E and I lived in Ann Arbor for four years when he was getting his PhD. I love Ann Arbor, really, I do. It appeals to the hippie AND the yuppie in me. But lord, was it cloudy. Also, I hated all the jobs I had when I was here, so that might have been another reason I was so desperate to get out of there the whole time I lived there.
San Francisco. The first time I visited San Francisco, when I was in college, I hated it. It seemed so run down and soggy and crowded to me. Where was I supposed to park? Now it seems like such a serviceable city to me. San Francisco and I have grown to really respect each other, but I don’t know if I’ll ever feel just crazy about it, because it IS always so cold and foggy and I am a creature who just really needs sun to thrive.
Nebraska. Mr. E and I spent almost two years in Nebraska while he was getting his post doc and although everyone on earth who heard we were living there looked at us like were aliens from another planet, I have extremely fond memories of Nebraska. The affordable housing! The bike path that ran along our house and then for another thirty miles! The cookie shop next to the Starbucks around the corner from my office! And also some of the nicest people I’ve ever known. And Nebraska is where I learned to run and I lost weight and I started to like myself again, and it’s where I learned that sometimes when you are right in the middle of making the best of things, the best of things can happen.
Top Ten Places I Would Like to Visit Someday – International*
1. Paris, France
2. Australia and New Zealand, yes I consider this one place, so sue me.
5. South Africa
Top Ten Places I Would Like to Visit Someday- Domestic*
2. The Grand Fricking Canyon
3. Mount Rushmore
4. Glacier National Park
5. Denali National Park/Alaska
6. Steamboat down the Mississippi River
9. Death Valley
10. Savannah, Georgia
Where would you go? What’s on your “list of dream places to visit?”
We are going to Cabo in November (woo hoo to best friends getting drunk and bidding on time shares!) but after that the world is our oyster. I am thinking Hawaii next spring since it’s the easiest and cheapest to get to. But as soon as the boy is old enough to go to the kennel, I’m on that plane to Paris, yes I am. Perhaps I’ll bring my husband if he plays his cards right. Also, I will insist that when we visit the Grand Canyon we drive some kind of family truckster to get there.
*Divided in two because that is the CORRECT way to do it even though certain people who shall remain nameless (Cough, Mr. E, Cough) think NOTHING of just naming off places willy nilly no matter whether they are IN the country or OUT but obviously they need to be correctly sorted in some kind of order or you could just find yourself in Indiana when you meant to go to Greenland.
Previous: 153. 2 (EEEP!)
Pounds to mini goal: 11.6
My theory is that anything over 150 is fake Easter weight and I refuse to even consider it as really happening, so I was hoping for a much bigger loss this week. Like my first week of “being good” should return to me a “normal” safe weight of 149 or something. However, when I look back on this past week, I did ok, but not great. So this week I am going to count every darn weekend point and hope that it jolts me back to way way below the 150 mark so I can start really hammering away at my 140 mini goal. I feel ill thinking about how hard it may be to go below that, but I am going to make myself cross that bridge when I come to it.
I KNOW I am capable of losing 11.6 pounds, and at that point I can figure out where to go from there.
As soon as people find out you’re pregnant, you start to hear it from all sides….the proclamations of doom, the smug and nasty little one liners, the stings disguised as helpful advice. (I can’t help but notice that a great deal of it comes from people who don’t have children.) But when you’re about to be a first time mom you don’t know to take it all with a grain of salt, and it’s overwhelming to hear this all at once and you start to believe that all terrible things they say are going to happen to you really will happen to you and I just want to be the lone voice out there in the dark shouting “Um, hi? No. ”
SO here is it is, my top ten pregnancy/early parenthood myths, busted.
1. You’re going to have to do SO MUCH LAUNDRY. Um, yes. We do so much laundry. And yet? Somehow I have survived this tragedy. Somehow, I soldier on.
2. Your boobs are going to turn into pancakes, your hoo hoo is going to turn blue (thanks for that one, Jenny McCarthy), you’ll probably gain 60 pounds, you’re going to get hemorrhoids. And plus you’re going to get the worst stretch marks! I didn’t get stretch marks. Nothing turned blue. I never had hemorrhoids, in fact, I don’t even really know what they are. I gained 25 pounds, and honestly? I kind of like my boobs now more than I did before, and I breastfed for a year.
3. Breastfeeding doesn’t hurt if you are doing it right. IMHO, this is a HUGE ass lie perpetrated by the breastfeeding mafia. I totally agree with breastfeeding and I guess I understand why they say it doesn’t hurt, but here is the thing. I was always going to breastfeed. Nothing was going to stop me. And yet, it hurts! It would have been ENORMOUSLY helpful if I had gone into it armed with the truth, if someone had said “for the first six weeks, it will hurt, but then it goes away and it gets so much easier”. Instead it hurt AND I was worried I was doing something wrong.
4. Your baby is going to outgrow all those teeny tiny outfits in about two minutes! And oh my gosh, he did! And after we had recovered from that devastating blow, and you know, really taken some time? To pull ourselves back together? After that, we girded our loins and took all the clothes we had in the next size up and we put those in his closet! and put the too small ones in the garage!
I know. I think I should patent my system too.
5. You’ll never go anywhere again, do anything again, or get to spend time with your husband again. Um, I spend more time with my husband now than I have in years, while we’re both sitting on the couch together biting our fingernails and whispering “Is he asleep? Do you hear him?”. And guess what? We still get to go to the movies, just by ourselves. And we’ve taken E to Boston and Michigan and San Francisco and Portland and Chicago and San Diego and we’ve been camping and hiking and swimming and somehow we are surviving.
6. Morning sickness gets better after Week 14. Keep saltines on your nightstand! Eat ginger chews!
No. Just no.
I was sick up until the day I gave birth. Saltines and lemons and ginger made me sick. Water made me sick. My morning sickness was so bad, it’s my number one reason for being afraid to have another baby.
These are helpful tips for the average woman with mild morning sickness, but I got really tired of hearing them.
7. You need lots and lots and lots of receiving blankets. Um, why? I think I had twenty five of these, or something ridiculous like that. I used maybe three. The ones from the store are too small to use for swaddling and too large to use as burp cloths. We just used the ones I made, and they were awesome. Those are the ones you need! And soon, very soon, they’ll be coming to an Etsy store near you! (End product placement now.)
8. Pacifiers are a tool of the devil. God, I don’t think I would have made it through this year without the pacifier. Eli cannot go to sleep without one, and it never interfered with his nursing or whatever blah blah blah the scare books tell you will you happen. Pacifiers are your friend. Embrace them. This is what you need to buy twenty five of, forget the crappy Target receiving blankets.
9. The La Leche Leaguers are SO awesome and are here to help you and they have a hot line and you should call them with ALL your problems. Perhaps your breastfeeding mafia is awesome, but I am not one to ask for help, ever, so I called them in a moment of TRUE and utter desperation after E’s circumcision when he would NOT nurse. I described everything and all the woman on the other end told me was that it didn’t sound like reflux and to stay calm. My kickass friend M got online and found out in about twelve seconds that it is very very very common for breastfeeding to get really crappy right after circumcision and it’s totally normal and you just have to keep trying and to pump if you have to and it will improve. Without that information I think our breastfeeding time might have ended right then and there.
10. Breastfeed and the baby weight will just fly right off you! God, this was SUCH A BIG LIE. SUCH A BIG LIE. Let me say that again. SUCH A BIG LIE. For me, anyway, breastfeeding started up a voice in my head that never shut up. “Let’s eat brownies. We’re hungry. What can we eat? Do we have any chips? I really could use a cookie. Where’s the chocolate? Do you think we should get some snickers? I need some cereal” and the whole time I was breastfeeding that voice never went away. Even when I wasn’t hungry I was craving salt and fat. Eli weaned about ten days ago and I can already tell that this time, I’m going to be able to stick to my plan and finally lose some weight. Next time I have a baby, as far as I’m concerned, I’m not going to even try to diet while breastfeeding. It was torture, and I didn’t lose any weight anyway. I’ll worry about it when the baby is weaned and before that if I want a cookie I’m going to have the damn cookie. Or eight.
Bonus Number 11: “Oh, I don’t like that name. It’s too ethnic. And I knew someone who had that name who was a serial master bater and an ax murderer and also I hated him.” No. It doesn’t matter if someone tells you they are naming their child “Constantinople Tee Rex Shirley Diamond Pruneface.” You smile and nod politely and say what a lovely name it is. But… No. End of story. No other editorializing is allowed. None none none.
My Pregnancy Advice, or what I wish someone would have said to me instead of warning me about hemorrhoids: You’re allowed to be horrified by pregnancy. Pregnancy is not Parenthood. And it’s all going to be fine. Your life is going to change in ways you could never have imagined and you won’t even care. Buy room darkening shades and a white noise machine. Breastfeeding hurts at first and for the first three months, that really is all you will do, but for you, in the end, it will be worth it. And for a while you will look at this naked mole rat you brought into this world and sometimes you might think “Yikes. You’re STILL here?” and then he’ll become a person and all of a sudden he will be your whole whole world and there will be something else too, something you’ll never really put your finger on, just perfectly, but it’s mostly like you look down at this amazing child that you are lucky enough to have in your life and you think “Oh! Had I known it was going to be YOU, I wouldn’t have worried at all.”
Pay attention, because I am about to reveal the entire key to my entire personality.
Deep deep down inside I am a really really lazy person. And if I let myself I would eat nothing but garbage, I would live in filth. I would never shower and I’d never ever ever put the toilet paper on the roll when it ran out. I’d eat entire meals of just bread with a side of butter. And I’d want my side of butter to come with its own side of ranch. I’d steep myself in Diet Coke and I would spend every. waking. minute. on the internet. While watching The Hills (Paris Changes Everything!). And surfing the internet.
But a long time ago I just decided that I wasn’t going to spend my life like that, and now I MAKE myself do all these things, on a daily basis, that I don’t really want to do. I make myself eat carrot slaw for lunch. I make myself fold the fitted sheets instead of stuffing them into the closet in a giant wad. I make myself get up and take a shower and I make myself mop the kitchen floor and change the cat litter and write thank you notes and empty the diaper pail and take the recycling out to the bin instead of just pitching it in the garage.
It’s like this with food for me too. I don’t have willpower. I create it artificially. I don’t have chips and candy and coke in my house. I deleted my post bitching about my in laws because some it wasn’t very nice, but the stuff about food was true. There weren’t any vegetables in the house. Although the problem wasn’t that I didn’t like the food. The problem was that I effing LOVED the food. I don’t have a can of nacho cheese in my refrigerator because it would be gone in three days. I’d pour it on my breakfast cereal. I know myself and I know I can’t live in a house with a refrigerator full of ice cream and a counter full of turtles and baskets of garlic bread and lasagna for dinner every night because I’d be the size of a house before a month went by. I’d eat it all.
It’s really all or nothing for me, sadly. I’ve always been that way. I can’t eat a few bites of ice cream and then forget about the carton in the freezer, and I can’t just trip lightly about my house singing songs about sunshine and tulips while I pick up dirty underwear off the floor for the one millionth effing time.
It’s the same thing that happened to me with breastfeeding. I made myself do it. I didn’t want to do it and I made myself do it and I got resentful of anyone who had let themself off that hook and didn’t seem to care. And I am like that with everything. I make myself do things the “right way” six trillion times a day and after awhile, it wears me out and it’s worse when I feel like I am the only one.
The only thing that makes it better is telling myself over and over again that my husband doesn’t say “I am going to leave this in the garage so someone else can take care of it.” It’s more like he’s really really really airheadey and he just never ever thinks anything through. Which is just how my brother was which is maybe why dishes left by the sink for the dishes fairy to do annoy me so so so so muchly much. (Hint to all men everywhere: There is no dishes fairy. I am the dishes fairy.)
But when I am on my hands and knees picking up chunks of bananas off the floor and I can’t help but notice that other people aren’t, it annoys me. I don’t even know if it’s my problem or if it’s universally annoying, but when I am trying to think up a healthy dinner that we can all eat and my husband says “I could just eat frozen pizza”, I find that really effing annoying. When I open the garage door and the garage is full of recycling that I guess I am going to break down and take out, I find that really annoying. When I go to put something away and find something else shoved in that spot because it was the easiest place to put it, rather than where it goes, I find it very very very annoying. Even though I know it mostly isn’t this way, it just smacks of thoughtlessness.
I don’t even know what my point is anymore. I have officially written myself into a bad mood. Maybe I need to quit my bitching and get myself a Frappucino already and also remember how my husband always always makes ice.
Or maybe I should remember my original point, which was just that I always feel like if I don’t stay on top of Lazy Elizabeth she’ll get out and that the only hope I have to keep her at bay is to fight fight fight all the time. Then I realize I still haven’t changed my watch from daylight savings time, and I see cromulence and despair and fat jeans and total disarray creeping up on me, leering from around the corner. Which scares me. A lot.
On the other hand, the morning the time changed, my husband went around the house and changed all the clocks, on his own, without even being asked. Right before he left his underwear on the bedroom floor.
Updates in italics. I am actually a rockstar of this list, it turns out. I have gotten so much of it done! Yeah me!
Get a haircut : It could be shorter, but whatever, it’s cute, it’ll do. Next time I’ll make the person cut it shorter and more angled, I think.
Paint my damn toenails already, the pedicure fairy is not going to show up here to do it. This is so easy, why don’t I do it more often? Also, I have a pedicure scheduled for April 12th during Baby Showerpalooza, and I’m ridiculously excited for that.
Pluck my eyebrows. They are icky. Enough said.: Having nice eyebrows makes everything automatically better.
Find a summer purse that I like and quit moaning on about it already. Turned out I had the purse all along, remember?
5. Count all my points even though it sucks hard, until I lose ten pounds. Ugh, I just tried on last summer’s shorts and it was NOT pretty. I have been doing ok with this. I have a really hard time counting points on the weekends and Easter was sort of a fiasco, but it could have been worse. During the week I have been doing pretty well with the points though. Another down fall is that Eli gets to eat all sorts of delicious fattening things like sausage and I have to try to resist eating all the leftovers and it’s next to impossible for me. The way that I don’t eat sausage is that I don’t have sausage in my house. So I’m having a hard time with all the yummy kid food that’s around.
Get up every morning at 8:30 and either take a shower or go for a run. Nothing makes me feel like bunk faster than sitting around in my pajamas all day, although lordy is it ever tempting and easy to do so. I haven’t been running but I have been taking a shower every morning and its helped my mood a lot. I hope to get back to running soon but for some reason right now I’m just not feeling it, so I am just letting myself sit with that for awhile.
7. Go to the dermatologist. I haven’t gone yet due to our shitty insurance and…certain other extenuating factors.
quit the hell nursing already. We finally figured out that Eli can’t drink from a sippy cup and now he gets bottles of regular milk (he hates formula.) Somehow the weaning just kind of happened. My boobs are still really sore but not as bad as they were. I am VERY happy with this decision and very excited to have my body back. I am also really proud of myself for breastfeeding for 13 months. I was never going to be a nurser of a two year old, but I am glad I did it for a year.
Find my damn flip flops. My flip flops were, um, in my closet. With my other shoes.
10. Wax, um, things. Enough said.
Find out where my stupid face lotion is. Stupid ebay. Supposedly this is being tracked down. I really hope I don’t have to email the person again but so far, no lotion, so I might have to get up in someone’s mix and demand a refund.
Wash my face every night . I still hate this but I have made myself do it every night since writing this. I think it is definitely helping. And also buy a new tooth whitening tray to replace the one the dog chewed up and whiten my teeth.
13. Lucky number thirteen…
buy new underwear and bras and throw out all the grotty old ones. The Gap was having a bra sale so I ordered some online, they are on their way. Wish me luck! I figured it can’t be any worse than trying on seventy million sucktastic bras at Macy’s. I ordered six so one of them has to work, and then I’ll just return any that don’t work for a few more of the one I liked. Also ordered a test pair of underwear from Amazon. We’ll see. Sundry recommended them, so they have to be awesome, is what I’m thinking.