To Everything There Is A Season

I would love to blog like Heidi or Pioneer Woman, posting about tempting, beautifully photographed recipes, and having hundreds of people respond that they can't wait to try that dish or that they love making a similar recipe seasoned with tarragon or a bit of dill.

I also wouldn't mind blogging like this gal, who just passes along inspiring photos, poems, etc., for everyone's edification.

The trouble is that, at this stage of my life, I simply don't have the time to make this blog anything I would like it to be. And when I do have free time, there are other things I would rather do with it.

I'm not saying I'm going to sign off forever. I may catch my second wind and start posting again next week. Or next year.

Until then, thanks for reading.

God be with you til we meet again.

Prudent Advice

Lately I've really enjoyed a blog called 500 Pieces of Prudent Advice for My Baby Daughter. It includes fun photos, poems, and such pearls of wisdom as "there's no need to give disclaimers" and "put your shopping cart away."

I would do something similar if I had more time, culture, and general coolness. And hey, who knows - maybe I'll try a similar project as a resolution next year.

Curses! I Missed It!

Why didn't anyone tell me that September 19 was Worldwide Spin in Public Day??!?

Must mark my calender for next year.

Day of Service

I know this post is a week late, but it's been on my mind so I thought I'd share. This year, as 9/11 approached, I found that I wasn't looking forward to all the heart-wrenching speeches and film clips that would be on every media channel. I wasn't even in the mood to have my annual cry through this tribute*. I just felt there had to be a better way to memorialize the victims of September 11 than tugging our collective heartstrings.

That's why I'm grateful to have heard an NPR interview that offered a more positive alternative. The interviewee was Jay Winuk, whose brother was a volunteer firefighter who lost his life trying to help others in the Twin Towers on 9/11. Since so many died in an effort to serve others that day, and so many more gave blood and performed other acts of service in the aftermath, Jay Winuk has labored to have the day declared a national day of service.

I like the idea of honoring the fallen by doing something positive in their name, and countering hatred with love. I found a little act of service to do this year, and next year I want to take time to plan something a little more significant. We'll see what I come up with.


*Though, of course, I did both watch and cry after all--and it amazes me that those images can still touch me so deeply. I suppose people who remember Pearl Harbor feel the same way.

Burnt Bran Muffins

I wanted to bring refreshments to an Enrichment presentation I planned to give tonight, so I made refrigerator bran muffin batter last night and planned to cook a few dozen muffins this afternoon. The first batch came out fine, but as I spooned batter into the second round of muffin cups Daniel became very bored and fussy. I worked frantically to fill the rest of the muffin cups and get them into the oven, then I hurried over to comfort my crying baby.

I often find that when I let my baby cry while I rush through some non-expedient cooking task, that task goes unexpectedly awry. So it was today. I cooked the second batch of muffins on the same heat setting, in the same (cooled) pans, for the same amount of time as the first batch, but for some mysterious reason they all burned. I put that batch in the trash, humbly waited until life had calmed down, then I prepared a third batch with Daniel sitting contentedly on my lap. I watched that batch like a hawk its last few minutes in the oven, and it turned out just fine.

No doubt there is some logical reason why one batch burned and the other two didn't, but at this point that doesn't matter much to me. Sometimes the lesson learned matters more than the circumstances behind it.

Ganache

Sorry I haven't written in a while--I've never had a spare minute and something meaningful to say at the same time. And frankly, I don't have anything terribly profound to write at this moment, either, but the mood struck me so here we go.

I made ganache for the first time a few days ago. It was just mini chocolate chips and boiled cream, and I didn't even get all the chips to melt completely, but it still looked pretty snazzy on the cake. There was some ganache left over, and I decided to save it in the fridge because I've heard you can make it into truffles.

So this afternoon I was in the mood for a few truffles. OK, let me rephrase that--I'm always in the mood for a few truffles, but this afternoon I remembered that I had the stuff on hand to make some. I assumed it would be a simple procedure: spoon some chilled ganache out of the container, roll it into a ball, roll the ball in cocoa, and eat it (or store it in the fridge, if you're disciplined like that). Apparently the process is more complicated than that, because instead of forming into a firm ball the ganache started melting into a gooey mess. So I did what any sensible woman would do--I stuck it in my mouth as quickly as possible.

Sweet Sister Lizzy, that stuff was good. Before I knew it, I was spooning ganache into my mouth as if it were the key ingredient to wisdom, health, and happiness. Within thirty seconds I'd consumed more calories than the average person should eat in two days. I finally willed myself to put the container back in the fridge and leave the room. If I'd used Ghiradelli or some other similarly luscious brand of chocolate instead of Nestle, I'd probably have eaten the whole thing in one sitting.

At least I would have died happy. :)

Spaghetti and the Laws of Physics

How to simulate a volcanic eruption in your kitchen:

1) Make spaghetti sauce.
2) Spoon some into a Tupperware container.
3) Get the bright idea that the contents will settle nicely if you bang the container down on your counter.
4) Execute idea with gusto.
5) Clean red sauce off your hair, eyes, shirt, stove, fruit bowl, toddler . . .

Note: Do not wear white apparel when attempting this experiment.

I Do Hard Things

I work from home an hour or two a day, and recently a coworker asked me to take on a new project. It’s complicated, tedious work, and I had a very hard time motivating myself to do it, but I knew it was important and no one else had a spare minute to devote to it.

One day, when I’d done every other task I possibly could but still struggled to start on the new project, I suddenly remembered STM’s post about a book called “Do Hard Things.” As I stared at my computer I thought to myself, “I do hard things,” then plunged into the project. Somehow, that mental declaration gave me the determination I needed to get started.

Practically every day since, when I’ve stared down the barrel of that darn project, I’ve found myself saying again, “I do hard things.” It gives me the momentum to begin, and gradually it’s getting easier for me to start on the task even without my little mantra. As Emerson wisely noted, “That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the task itself has become easier, but that our ability to perform it has improved.” Thank heaven.

Driven

My friend STM feels driven to write and publish a novel. I don't. I like the idea of publishing something (possibly an essay or historical work, since I have absolutely no talent for writing fiction), but I just don't feel a burning need to see my words printed and bound.

Nevertheless, I do feel utterly driven to write. That may surprise you, since I recently went over a month without posting anything here (sorry about that). Actually, most of my writing is done in my journal. This year alone, I've written 129 pages filled with 82,535 words. It took me months to compose a mere ten pages of my master's thesis, yet I often find myself writing a page a day in my journal about our adventures, my musings, or just the mundane joys and frustrations of marriage and parenthood.

Why do I regularly stay up past midnight writing (and even proofreading and revising) things that no one else may ever read in my lifetime--or after it, for that matter? It's crazy. I need sleep. Yet, when something's on my mind, recording or sorting through it seems so much more important than the sleep I'm missing out on. My journals and I have been burning midnight oil by the gallon since high school, and we'll probably keep doing it for the rest of my life. Maybe someday I'll understand why.

Babies Don't Bother with Small Talk

Phillip had a rough afternoon recently, and though I did my best to cheer him up, the thing that seemed to help him most was spending some time with Baby Daniel. Mere moments after Phillip picked him up, his cares seemed to melt away and the two were smiling and laughing together.

I’ve noticed that babies often have that effect on people. Pedestrians who barely make eye contact with me will smile and possibly even stop to talk to my kids. I do the same thing with other people’s babies and toddlers, but I can’t quite put my finger on the reason why I feel so comfortable interacting with young children, but often so uncomfortable connecting with their parents. Perhaps it is because children are simpler. You don’t have to read between the lines with them, or sift through small talk long enough to find a common interest. You just have to be friendly and they are usually friendly back.

Interaction with children may also be more comfortable because they are non-threatening. They don’t categorize or judge you. Kids don’t rate people as better or worse than them; they either play with you or ignore you, but they never reject you. You’re free to be yourself around them, because all they really care about is whether you’re warm and cheerful, as well. I suppose that's one reason the Lord told us to be childlike. It would be a much gentler world if we cared more about whether a person was good and kind than whether they were better, worse, or different from us.

Are You Prepared For This?

Phillip and I attended some preparedness seminars at our chapel today. Of course, since we're preparedness-challenged, we forgot to prepare accommodations for our toddler so she ended up coming with us.

We learned a lot of helpful things this afternoon, and I'm excited to put some of them into practice. I suppose it says something about my priorities that my favorite thing I learned was a simple food storage recipe that I could actually bear to eat. You just cook 2 cups of dry macaroni or other pasta (I use Barilla Plus Multigrain pasta because it tastes like regular pasta but is much more nutritious), then drain it and stir in a can of cream of mushroom soup and a 12oz can of canned chicken from Costco. And that's it. It's tasty in an unassuming sort of way, and it would be easy to jazz up with whatever seasonings you're in the mood for (curry or Italian seasoning come to mind).

My other favorite thing I learned was that Katadyn makes simple purifying drink bottles that you can fill with nearly a liter of clear water, then immediately squeeze filtered, drinkable water out the top. They filter out bacteria, viruses, you name it. I've heard you get a bit of a workout squeezing the water out, but I love the simplicity of the concept. I think I know what's going on my birthday list this year . . .

One of Those Days

As a parent you learn a lot about efficiency and planning ahead, but no matter how much experience you gain, you still make mistakes now and then. Like today, when I gave my toddler a cupcake an hour AFTER I vacuumed.

Crumbs. Ev.Er.Y.Where. Sigh. Next time we shall eat the cupcake outside, methinks.

As if that weren't enough, I also dressed her in white pants before we went outside to play with sidewalk chalk. Yeah. I know.

Another Lousy Peach

During my brief sojourn in mortality, I've learned there are certain irrefutable laws of the universe. For example:

1) For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
2) The harder you work to pass a slowpoke on the road, the sooner you'll find yourself stuck behind a slowerpoke (whereupon the first slowpoke will promptly catch up to you, and probably laugh).
3) Entropy (i.e. disorder, randomness) tends to increase over time (especially if toddlers are involved).
4) I have absolutely no skill for selecting ripe peaches. None. Zero. The end.

Use the Fork, Luke

What do you get when you combine Darth Vader with a baby shower cake?

You know you want to find out.

It is your destiny.

Just Plain Chicken

Today, for the first time in my life, I cut up a whole chicken. I'd like to say I did it because I'm thrifty and whole chickens are cheap (which they are), or because I'm on some sort of back-to-nature foodie kick (which I'm not), but the truth is that the grocery store employee put someone else's bird in my bag, and when I went back to return it like a good citizen they said they couldn't accept it. It's been sitting in my freezer for weeks now, and by golly I wanted my freezer space back, so I decided today was the day.

The internet site I looked up made the process look quick and simple. I estimated it would take me five minutes tops. It took me over an hour. I sweated; I squinted; Daniel made fitful, bored noises in his rocker until naptime finally rolled around. We won't talk about the utter mess I made of our kitchen (thank goodness for disinfecting wipes). I take some solace from the fact that I ultimately achieved my poultry-related goal, but I'm not sure I'll attempt it again any time soon.

Doing Nothing With Daniel

"I went to a bookstore and asked the saleswoman, 'Where's the self-help section?' She said if she told me, it would defeat the purpose." --George Carlin
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I've been reading a few self-help books lately. Most of them are related to personal finance (you'll probably hear about them in some later post), but I also recently read one called Simplify Your Life: 100 Ways to Slow Down and Enjoy the Things That Really Matter by Elaine St. James. Some of her suggestions were helpful (e.g. go with patterned carpet because it hides spots), some I was already doing (e.g. don't buy clothes that need dry cleaning), and some was a bit too hardcore simple for me (e.g. don't make your bed; skip the holidays).

One idea that I initially filed in that last category was her suggestion to "do nothing" for one day a month. Even if this was remotely possible for a mother of two young children, I'm not sure I'd want to spend an entire day just communing with the universe and the dust motes.

To my surprise, though, I've since realized that "nothing" is one of my favorite things to do with Baby Daniel. When we're the only ones awake in the house I love to just cuddle him close or watch him stare intently at random objects in the room. Sometimes he looks at me and we have fun little cooing conversations, but most of the time it's just peaceful and soothing to quietly be together, doing "nothing."

Getting in Touch with My Inner Child

As a parent, I often find myself doing things I never would have imagined in the B.C. years (before children). And I'm not just talking about diapers and spit-up, though those could each be a post of their own. But I digress.

When Daniel wakes up hungry, I often bounce him a little and say, "Shhhhhhhhh," to soothe him. Well, lately I've noticed that when I having in a particularly stressful moment, I say, "Shhhhhhhhh," and bounce myself up and down. I'm sure it looks strange, but it actually helps.

I've also noticed that I'm picking up some Joy-speak for certain things. She calls water "fuff-fuff" and blankets "bittuhs," and when I'm talking to her I find that I use her "words" for those items, even though she understands the more standard terms for them.

Of course, Joy likes following our lead, too, especially at mealtimes. She doesn't necessarily eat what we eat (alas), but she does insist on sitting in a big chair, eating on a big plate, and using big utensils. The other day we were having yogurt with lunch, and since I didn't relish the idea of Joy inevitably spilling huge spoonfuls of it onto the floor, I decided it would be easiest to just get out a little, plastic child spoon for my place and ask her which color she wanted for herself. As we sat there eating our Yoplait, I reflected that eating with red utensils was kind of fun, and that it's a pity they don't make adult-size ones. Ah, the simple pleasures you experience as a parent.

Bleh

Today marks an interesting milestone in my ongoing quest to focus on the positive in life. Miraculously, I feel no real desire to vent about all the negative aspects of this day. Unfortunately, I don't have the mental energy to think of anything that might have been positive about it. I'm sure there must have been something . . .

Mom, What's A Book?

Today I was browsing through the Fall 2008 issue of BYU Magazine, and I noticed an article about how birth order can impact the amount of parental time children receive. A recent study showed that "firstborn children get about 3000 more hours of parental time between the ages of 4 and 13 than secondborns." This may explain why firstborns "generally get more and better education, score higher on tests, and end up with jobs that pay more."

There may be multiple reasons for the difference in parental time. A parent with multiple children often has to divide time between them. Also, more children may mean more chauffeuring to extracurricular activities, and consequently less family time. Moreover, while firstborns only have a parent to teach them new things, secondborns often prefer to play with their sibling, so big brother or sister may be the one who teaches words and activities instead of Mom or Dad.

One first/secondborn difference that really struck me was the fact that parents often spend much more time reading to their first child than their second. When I read that, I realized that when Joy was an infant I used to read her multiple books a day, but the only time I read anything to Daniel is when Joy happens to bring a book over while he's on my lap. Even reading with Joy has become rare because life is busier and she often requests other activities instead.

I want both my children to experience the joy of reading, and I'm glad this article woke me up to the fact that I've let reading be sidelined lately. I think I'll introduce Daniel to a few board books this afternoon.

Wouldn't Miss It

I'm an advisor in the Young Women program at church, and once a month I teach a lesson on some assigned topic. This week's lesson is on "Attitudes about Our Divine Roles" of wife and mother. I must say there's a certain irony in the fact that this lesson fell to me, because motherhood was a serious leap of faith for me. Some girls gravitate toward babies from the moment they can walk; I was never one of those girls. My interests lay elsewhere, and when I was around children (especially tiny ones) I never had a clue what to do with them. I couldn't imagine what I would do with a few children of my own all day, every day.

My decision to become a mother was a considerable act of faith in God and His prophets. They promised me that motherhood was part of God’s plan for me, that when we accept His callings He helps us fulfill them, and that I would find greater happiness in parenthood than in any other role. I didn’t exercise my faith in vain. I was amazed at how easily I took to parenthood, and I’ve learned more about godliness from being a parent than I learned from my mission or any class I’ve ever taken.

Tonight, as I worked on my lesson with Daniel nestled against me in a sling, I reflected on whether I truly had found my greatest happiness as a mother. I realized that, much as I love my friends, enjoy my hobbies, and cherish my missionary service, the sweetest memories of my life are connected with my little family. They involve cuddles with Daniel, or Phillip helping out when I’m tired, or Joy calling out “Mama!” when I come home and running up to get a kiss on the cheek. They involve together time with my sweetheart, and witnessing the milestones of our children.

While motherhood certainly has its stressful moments, it has also yielded the sweetest, happiest experiences of my life. If I hadn’t trusted the Lord and His servants, I would have missed out on so very much.

My Daughter, Myself

Joy was in good spirits most of the day, but she started acting out a little this evening (throwing things, refusing to help clean up, etc.). As I did my best to remain positive and respond effectively to each situation, I realized I was having a much easier time feeling affection for Daniel than for Joy. I think a big reason for that is that my relationship with Daniel is much less complicated at this point.

I think Daniel’s sweet, he finds me comforting, and I don’t have to worry about how to discipline him or teach him good principles. By contrast, many of my interactions with Joy involve her pushing her limits and my buttons, and my struggles to teach and promote good behavior aren’t always effective.

While I might wish my relationship with Joy was as sweet and simple as what I share with Daniel, I can’t help thinking that my relationship with my Heavenly Father is more like what I experience with Joy. I’m a basically good child, but I repeatedly try His patience in some ways. Yet He loves me anyway, and if I hope to become more like Him, I need to cultivate a similar ability to love despite challenges, not in absence of them.

More Faith Than Fear

The next few days are going be crazy and unpredictable. Since there's no way to plan how to handle them effectively, I've been trying to not think about them at all. Surprisingly, I discovered that stressed me out more. Then I remembered a principle from Tuesdays with Morrie.

Morrie was slowly dying from a chronic disease, but rather than mentally fleeing fear, he acknowedged it whenever it reared its head then he consciously set it aside. I'm trying to do likewise, acknowledging that the next few days will be demanding, but also putting faith in God, in myself, and in the family and friends committed to helping us through. After all, worry contributes nothing useful, and it robs us both of the anticipation of the future and enjoyment of the present.

Baby and I are Home

My little bundle of boy arrived earlier this week. We're both doing fine and happy to be home. My feelings vacillate between eagerness to get back into life and a lethargic yearning for more naps. Consequently it's hard to say whether I'll be posting a lot or a little in coming weeks. We'll just have to take things as they come, as always.

In the meantime, gentle readers, I hope all's well with you.

Adventures in the Kitchen

A few weeks back I published a post on how my perception of myself has evolved. One significant aspect of that change has been my defining hobby. I used to read voraciously in high school, and though I had less time for pleasure reading in college I continued to define myself as a bookworm. These days I still enjoy books, but I rarely make time to read them and I'm embarrassed to say that I regret that more on principle than because of some deep yearning in my soul. If I have any defining hobby these days, I would have to say it's food and the preparation thereof.

That's not to say I'm some gourmet with super-refined taste. I wouldn't even say I'm a foodie--I enjoy eating, preparing, and learning about food, but I'm not full-time obsessive about it (yet?). I just enjoy good food, and find that cooking is a creative outlet that works in my schedule. I usually feel too busy to attempt reading anything longer than an internet news article or blog post, but since I have to feed my family every day I figure I might as well use that time as an opportunity to experiment and create something we will (hopefully) enjoy.

I've learned some interesting things along the way. For example, I recently discovered that bacon actually does play a meaningful role in some dishes, including a chicken chili recipe from which I always used to omit it. I've also learned that bottled lemon juice in no way compares with fresh squeezed, that red and green bell peppers actually taste very different (when I first started cooking, I assumed people just chose one over the other because they liked the color), and that pouring water on unbaked apple crisp can actually produce tasty results (a.k.a. my new favorite dessert). I'm curious to see what longstanding assumption I unexpectedly debunk next week.

Don't expect me to host a cooking show any time soon, though. I often tell people that if I started one, it would be billed as a comedy with viewers betting on what I would drop, spill, omit, or burn next. Most of my dishes turn out all right in the end, but it would be woefully inaccurate to call my preparation style either elegant or efficient. Oh well--what really matters is that the result tastes good and I had a good time making it.

If Only I Could Eat A Picture . . .

Wanna see some food photography so lusciously intense that you'll even drool over things you normally wouldn't choose to eat? Well, even if you don't, check this out, and tell me what you think. :)

Funny thing is, the site offers recipes for all the dishes pictured, but for once I don't care how to make the food. I just want to keep LOOKING at it . . .

The Influence of Munchkins on Self-Definition

Sometime in the murky past, I was on an internet forum where someone noted that a disproportionate number of mothers choose usernames centering on their role as a mom: briansmommy, motheroftwins, momandthreemonkeys, etc. The person posed the question whether it is a positive thing to define yourself by the role you play in life, especially when that role centers on someone else.

I don't recall what the consensus was on the forum, or even what my response was at the time. All I know is that I'm increasingly coming to embody that scenario. Not that I'm considering changing my blog title to "Mama of Two" in a few weeks, but mothering does dominate my time and thoughts far more than anything else these days.

While I love cooking and I compulsivley turn on NPR in the car to hear the latest news or soak up a bit of culture, most of the time my mental energy is devoted to molding my daughter's character, figuring out what she's trying to communicate, and struggling to remain calm when she spills another glass of juice. Motherhood challenges and rewards me more than any other activity ever has. It is a source of incredible joy, but it also relentlessly reminds me how imperfect I am. Taking all that into account, I suppose it's a logical step to define myself by the role that consumes my time and thoughts, motivates and directs my efforts at self-improvement, and consistently brings me the most joy.

Ten Things That Make Me Happy

This isn't any sort of meme I got tagged for (though you're more than welcome to post a similar list, if you feel so inclined :). I just got to thinking about the simple pleasures in my life, and thought I'd share:

1) Husband hugs
2) Daughter laughs
3) Feeling the Spirit in peaceful moments
4) One-on-one time with my sweetheart
5) Cooking something that tastes good
6) Reading something for pleasure
7) Doing a little exercise
8) Acquiring new kitchen gadgets (I'm currently drooling over this, but I'm not sure I'd use it enough to justify the expense)
9) Productivity (now that I'm a mom, I have greater appreciation for this increasingly rare pleasure)
10) Eating See’s milk chocolate peppermint patties (I could probably live on those things, but if I couldn’t I’d sure die happy.)

If Ye Love Me, Eat My Pancakes

I love my husband for many, many reasons. One of them is that he supports my hobby/creative outlet/obsession for trying new recipes. Occasionally I make something for dinner that we've actually had before and know we'll like, but for some reason I feel much more motivated to try out new recipes. I don't like cooking for just myself, though, so I am deeply grateful for a husband who's willing to sample whatever I put in front of him each night.

Today was a case in point. A while back I found a recipe for cornmeal pancakes with chunks of cooked ham in them. The concept intrigued me, but when I mentioned it to Phillip he looked at me as if I were absolutely daft. "You want to put WHAT into perfectly good pancake batter?" Ham. "That sounds like it would taste really strange." Who knows--we might like it. "Maybe . . ."

I happened to have some cooked ham on hand this weekend, and I decided that today was the day to try the pancake recipe. This afternoon when we got home from church, Phillip started looking through the fridge for lunch prospects and I asked if he was in the mood to sample those ham pancakes I'd mentioned. He slowly looked up from the twice-baked potato he'd been hungrily eying and said, "Sure, we can try them."

I whipped up the batter, cooked the pancakes, and . . . they were pretty good but nothing to write home about. I probably won't make them again, but even though this recipe didn't end up being a keeper, it did provide a welcome reminder how lucky I am to have a husband who supports the hobby that matters so much to me. He thought the recipe sounded weird, and he ended up being right, but he still ate some of it with me.

Thank you, sweetheart. I love you.

Cake Wrecks

In the mood for a laugh (or a groan)? Head over to Cake Wrecks, a blog of photos and pleasantly snarky commentary about professionally-decorated cakes that "go horribly, hilariously wrong." The Santa Slug is still my favorite.

Incidentally, the blogger posts some excellent, non-wrecky cakes on Sundays. Today's dragons are particularly impressive (um, except for the one in the tutu--to each their own, I suppose).

P.S. Thanks to my friend Beth for linking to this site on her blog. :)

Resolutions Accomplished

So, I resolved this year to read a book a month, and exercise more. I finished Rowling's "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" today (thoroughly enjoyed it), and I did some prenatal yoga during Joy's nap, which is more exercise than I've probably done in the last two months. So that means I'm done with this resolution thing, right?

Especially since next month I'll go from being a moderately sane mother of one to being a sleep-deprived, stressed-out, world-turned-totally-upside-down mother of two.

Better make February's book a short one. Do board books count?

Happy Old Year! (& the new one, too)

On the radio today one of the announcers asked whether 2008 had been a good year for listeners, or one that they’d rather forget. I feel it’s been a good one for me. I’ve enjoyed sharing my little girl’s progress and adventures, and I’m excited to meet her little brother in February. I asked Phillip how he felt about this past year, and he agreed that it has been a positive one because his education is going in a more promising direction, and he has switched to a new lab project with more appeal and fewer roadblocks. All in all, we are happy with our current situation, and looking forward to what the new year holds for us.

Hope the same can be said for you, gentle readers. :)