Unstopable dreamer
...that the Eiffel Tower is light brown and not gray as I thought? :p
I'm in Europe right night, came with my girl to my niece's wedding. We had a loooong layover in Paris, 8 hours, so we got on a bus and got to see the Tower. It was cold and rainy, but still got our noses out to take a pic. It's fabulous!
Anyway, just in case you were wondering what color it was, now ya know, lol...
We are having a fabulous time here.
I'll tell you all about it when I come back! :)
Music boxes
Monday, March 27, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
"Miracle workers"
Unstopable dreamer
For a long time now I've had mix feelings about "feel good" reality TV. Like extreme makeovers, or giving away cars and houses and all kind of nice things to people in need. Don't get me wrong; I'm happy for those who receive these blessings. It's just that I think about other people that also need things, maybe more than the ones on TV, but no one notices, and let's face it, they can't help everyone. Take for instance: the other day I was watching "Regis and Kelly" and they had this wonderful thing they were doing for a family in New Orleans. I was so happy for them, I was seriously crying. But then I think; how many people from New Orleans are watching this now? How many of them needed this even more? And how, please tell me, how do they feel watching this? Are they happy for the others? 'Cause it isn't fair if we balance things like this.
But you know, since I was never in that situation, I was never "the other one" watching and not receiving. I have a house; I have food to eat; I don't need a nose job. So I always wondered... until last week.
"Miracle Workers" is a new show on Monday nights where doctors and specialists do extreme life changing surgeries and treatments for people that have already lost hope. They made a lady walk the other night, and a blind man see. It's an amazing show.
Last week's episode brought reality TV to my reality. I saw a teennage girl with severe Tourette Syndrome. She could not control her tics, she kept slapping her head and face and doing all kinds of strange things. If I was watching that behavior for the first time in my life, I would have thought she was really weird. But I didn't, because my eight year old daughter has the same illness.
I looked at the girl and saw my daughter in a few years. Right now her tics are somewhat under control, medecine and therapy are helping a lot. Our neurologist has warned us though, it will get worse during her teenage years. How worse? No one can predict. Only time will tell.
And so I watched this girl... watched her shaving her head for the surgery, trying on some wigs... then I watched the actual surgery, where she had to be awake in order to tell where exactly the electrode was going to be placed. They found the spot. Just to be sure, they increased the voltage and her tics started to get worse and worse until I yelled at them to stop it already, you're torturing that girl! But they had to do it to make sure it was the right spot. It was. And just like that, as the voltage started adjusting, I saw her face go back to normal... no eye blinking, no nose and mouth twiching, no jerks of any kind. I saw a miracle happen before my eyes. And I was crying... I thought about my daughter and how uncertain her future behavior is... but I wasn't crying because of that; I was crying of happiness. Because I knew. I knew exactly how that mother felt during this whole ordeal. I was finally in a place where I could look and think, how, this is me! I know exactly what they are going through!
And it was that happiness that made me cry; because I knew that the suffering was gone, not for me, but for one that felt like me... and that felt good.
I don't wonder anymore. I'm grateful for the people that get relief and the help they need.
Who cares if they're just doing a show to get viewers to watch and earn millions themselves... They are performing a miracle to someone.
And that, to me, is enough.
For a long time now I've had mix feelings about "feel good" reality TV. Like extreme makeovers, or giving away cars and houses and all kind of nice things to people in need. Don't get me wrong; I'm happy for those who receive these blessings. It's just that I think about other people that also need things, maybe more than the ones on TV, but no one notices, and let's face it, they can't help everyone. Take for instance: the other day I was watching "Regis and Kelly" and they had this wonderful thing they were doing for a family in New Orleans. I was so happy for them, I was seriously crying. But then I think; how many people from New Orleans are watching this now? How many of them needed this even more? And how, please tell me, how do they feel watching this? Are they happy for the others? 'Cause it isn't fair if we balance things like this.
But you know, since I was never in that situation, I was never "the other one" watching and not receiving. I have a house; I have food to eat; I don't need a nose job. So I always wondered... until last week.
"Miracle Workers" is a new show on Monday nights where doctors and specialists do extreme life changing surgeries and treatments for people that have already lost hope. They made a lady walk the other night, and a blind man see. It's an amazing show.
Last week's episode brought reality TV to my reality. I saw a teennage girl with severe Tourette Syndrome. She could not control her tics, she kept slapping her head and face and doing all kinds of strange things. If I was watching that behavior for the first time in my life, I would have thought she was really weird. But I didn't, because my eight year old daughter has the same illness.
I looked at the girl and saw my daughter in a few years. Right now her tics are somewhat under control, medecine and therapy are helping a lot. Our neurologist has warned us though, it will get worse during her teenage years. How worse? No one can predict. Only time will tell.
And so I watched this girl... watched her shaving her head for the surgery, trying on some wigs... then I watched the actual surgery, where she had to be awake in order to tell where exactly the electrode was going to be placed. They found the spot. Just to be sure, they increased the voltage and her tics started to get worse and worse until I yelled at them to stop it already, you're torturing that girl! But they had to do it to make sure it was the right spot. It was. And just like that, as the voltage started adjusting, I saw her face go back to normal... no eye blinking, no nose and mouth twiching, no jerks of any kind. I saw a miracle happen before my eyes. And I was crying... I thought about my daughter and how uncertain her future behavior is... but I wasn't crying because of that; I was crying of happiness. Because I knew. I knew exactly how that mother felt during this whole ordeal. I was finally in a place where I could look and think, how, this is me! I know exactly what they are going through!
And it was that happiness that made me cry; because I knew that the suffering was gone, not for me, but for one that felt like me... and that felt good.
I don't wonder anymore. I'm grateful for the people that get relief and the help they need.
Who cares if they're just doing a show to get viewers to watch and earn millions themselves... They are performing a miracle to someone.
And that, to me, is enough.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Way to go, honey!
Unstopable dreamer
I have an 8 year old little girl that's in second grade and is a smart cookie, as we like to call her. Her weekly quizes average 97/98, she's that good. I actually think she'd do 100's all the way if she wasn't so easily distracted, but I'm not complaining about that, lol, she's awesome and we're very proud of her.
Last Friday she did exceptionaly well, though. She came home with a 100 on the math test, 100 on the reading test (The only one in her class of 21 students to get 100, she made sure we understood that!...) and a practize reading quiz where she got 9 out of 10 correct. This last one would normally be an a ok, but since this book she took a test on was a level 4.8, that meant A LOT for a second grader! Oh, and the spelling test, like usual, 105, counting the extra credit words.
Aaaaanyway... she was so excited, and I, of course, made a big deal out of it because, well, because I'm a mom, that's why.
When my husband got home, she ran to him to show him the work of a little genious... daddy was very happy as well... maybe a little too happy, 'cause he couldn't get over it and wanted to know what she did different that day to get such awesome grades. (you see, if you ask me, I'll tell you that since she's already a good student, "luck" was what brought this all up). But no, he wanted to know, and made her think of something she might have done differently.
I think in the back of his mind he was hoping she'd say "I paid more attention", or something of the sort. You know, dads are always looking for ways to teach the children a lesson or two on the hardships of life, and how we can better ourselves when we do our part.
After thinking for a bit, she finally remembered something.
"Oh, you're right, daddy! There WAS something different! I didn't study yesterday!"
Oy!
Thanks dear.
I have an 8 year old little girl that's in second grade and is a smart cookie, as we like to call her. Her weekly quizes average 97/98, she's that good. I actually think she'd do 100's all the way if she wasn't so easily distracted, but I'm not complaining about that, lol, she's awesome and we're very proud of her.
Last Friday she did exceptionaly well, though. She came home with a 100 on the math test, 100 on the reading test (The only one in her class of 21 students to get 100, she made sure we understood that!...) and a practize reading quiz where she got 9 out of 10 correct. This last one would normally be an a ok, but since this book she took a test on was a level 4.8, that meant A LOT for a second grader! Oh, and the spelling test, like usual, 105, counting the extra credit words.
Aaaaanyway... she was so excited, and I, of course, made a big deal out of it because, well, because I'm a mom, that's why.
When my husband got home, she ran to him to show him the work of a little genious... daddy was very happy as well... maybe a little too happy, 'cause he couldn't get over it and wanted to know what she did different that day to get such awesome grades. (you see, if you ask me, I'll tell you that since she's already a good student, "luck" was what brought this all up). But no, he wanted to know, and made her think of something she might have done differently.
I think in the back of his mind he was hoping she'd say "I paid more attention", or something of the sort. You know, dads are always looking for ways to teach the children a lesson or two on the hardships of life, and how we can better ourselves when we do our part.
After thinking for a bit, she finally remembered something.
"Oh, you're right, daddy! There WAS something different! I didn't study yesterday!"
Oy!
Thanks dear.
Friday, March 10, 2006
How do you lose a friend?
I have four people in my life that I know for certain would do anything for me. Unfortunatly, they don't leave near me; I still count them as my true angels though, because I know they love me unconditionally, and I can always count on them.
But there's a part of me that aches for a friend like that who lives close to me; one that could come as soon as I called her crying, one that I wouldn't be afraid to just drop by and stay a while and just be there. It's the physical contact, I guess, the hugs, the shoulder, the tears she would let me cry.
Ever since I moved here, over 8 years ago, the search has been on for "THE" friend. Funny thing is, I was certain I had find her, well, let's see... at least 5 times. We become good friends, share secrets, I get all excited, and then, poof! She's gone. Our conversations aren't as personal, she doesn't return my calls, she's tired and busy with other things, and I'm left to wonder what I did wrong. I'm hurt for a while, then someone else comes along, and the story repeats itself all over again.
What is it? How do we lose friends like that? I can only thing of 2 reasons; one, there's something wrong with me, or two, she was never my true friend to begin with (this one hurts a lot more).
Anyway... As I was thinking about these things today, the lyrics of a favorite song popped into my mind. I couldn't describe to you how I feel today if it wasn't for this song; it really says it all.
"I can't do everything.
I know, because I tried;
I told myself I could,
and then found out I lied...
I believed with all my heart
that I could do it all...
But I can't do everything,
and when I try, I fall.
I can't please everyone.
I know, because I tried.
I needed their love so much,
Sometimes I compromised...
But the more I live and learn,
the more I plainly see
that I can't please anyone,
until I'm pleased with me."
But there's a part of me that aches for a friend like that who lives close to me; one that could come as soon as I called her crying, one that I wouldn't be afraid to just drop by and stay a while and just be there. It's the physical contact, I guess, the hugs, the shoulder, the tears she would let me cry.
Ever since I moved here, over 8 years ago, the search has been on for "THE" friend. Funny thing is, I was certain I had find her, well, let's see... at least 5 times. We become good friends, share secrets, I get all excited, and then, poof! She's gone. Our conversations aren't as personal, she doesn't return my calls, she's tired and busy with other things, and I'm left to wonder what I did wrong. I'm hurt for a while, then someone else comes along, and the story repeats itself all over again.
What is it? How do we lose friends like that? I can only thing of 2 reasons; one, there's something wrong with me, or two, she was never my true friend to begin with (this one hurts a lot more).
Anyway... As I was thinking about these things today, the lyrics of a favorite song popped into my mind. I couldn't describe to you how I feel today if it wasn't for this song; it really says it all.
"I can't do everything.
I know, because I tried;
I told myself I could,
and then found out I lied...
I believed with all my heart
that I could do it all...
But I can't do everything,
and when I try, I fall.
I can't please everyone.
I know, because I tried.
I needed their love so much,
Sometimes I compromised...
But the more I live and learn,
the more I plainly see
that I can't please anyone,
until I'm pleased with me."
Monday, February 27, 2006
Saturday, February 25, 2006
On "friendship"
Unstopable dreamer
My friend doesn't live next door to me. She doesn't pop in just to say hi or to borrow a cup of sugar. She doesn't come to my house to sit a while and just talk about everything or nothing at all.
My friend doesn't call me daily; she doesn't send me halmark cards every week saying how much she misses me and how much she'd like to be with me. Heck, she doesn't write to me at all. She doesn't tell me of her daily little frustrations and moments of joy that come with motherhood, or even womanhood for that matter. She doesn't call to ask for a recipe when she's planning a special dinner; she doesn't go to the movies with me or joins me to jog in the morning; she never comes to see me when I'm going through my most difficult trials in life.
But somehow, she's always with me.
My friend thinks of me daily; she prays for me when she kneels at night. She knows when I'm sad, she know when I'm happy; she knows when I need her the most.
My friend sends friendship vibes through her heart. She cheers me up when I'm down; she let's me know when I'm wrong; she listens to my many ramblings and complaints; she's wise without measure; she counsels me when I'm lost; she lets me know she loves me. My friend understands. My friend believes. My friend sees through my imperfections. My friend thinks I can conquer. My friend knows what I can become. My friend is my number one fan. She's my example. she's my hero. She's all I want to be when I grow up.
Our friendship was formed in Heaven and lives inside our hearts. If I never see her in this life, or if computers, telephones and the postal service cease to exist, I will never love her less, and I will always think of her everyday, and she will always be here for me.
'cause she's my friend.
My friend doesn't live next door to me. She doesn't pop in just to say hi or to borrow a cup of sugar. She doesn't come to my house to sit a while and just talk about everything or nothing at all.
My friend doesn't call me daily; she doesn't send me halmark cards every week saying how much she misses me and how much she'd like to be with me. Heck, she doesn't write to me at all. She doesn't tell me of her daily little frustrations and moments of joy that come with motherhood, or even womanhood for that matter. She doesn't call to ask for a recipe when she's planning a special dinner; she doesn't go to the movies with me or joins me to jog in the morning; she never comes to see me when I'm going through my most difficult trials in life.
But somehow, she's always with me.
My friend thinks of me daily; she prays for me when she kneels at night. She knows when I'm sad, she know when I'm happy; she knows when I need her the most.
My friend sends friendship vibes through her heart. She cheers me up when I'm down; she let's me know when I'm wrong; she listens to my many ramblings and complaints; she's wise without measure; she counsels me when I'm lost; she lets me know she loves me. My friend understands. My friend believes. My friend sees through my imperfections. My friend thinks I can conquer. My friend knows what I can become. My friend is my number one fan. She's my example. she's my hero. She's all I want to be when I grow up.
Our friendship was formed in Heaven and lives inside our hearts. If I never see her in this life, or if computers, telephones and the postal service cease to exist, I will never love her less, and I will always think of her everyday, and she will always be here for me.
'cause she's my friend.
Friday, February 10, 2006
I did it!
Unstopable dreamer
For a few months now we've had a type of infestation in our house. The stuff is everywhere. Everytime I tried to kill it, some more will appear and keeps growing everyday. My attempts to get rid of it are useless; something always happens to keep me from doing this dreadful task. Kids will throw up and beds have to be stripped down; the toilet will flood, and I have to use every towel in the house to dry the floor. It's just a big, cahotic mess.
I don't know exactly how this "plague" spreads so fast. I mean, come on, I'm a mother; I need to care for the kids, cook, clean, help them with homework, grocery shop, the list goes on and on... I don't have time for this!
But yesterday I put my foot down. I said to myself, "that's it. I will do whatever it takes to get rid of this stuff. "
I told my husband (in the nicest way I could) that he had to watch the kids. And fix dinner too, while he's at it. I was on a mission, and I meant business.
After months and months of battling with this, here I am happy to report that my kid's closets smell nice and their clothes are fresh and clean. There is not one sock on the floor or behind the washer and dryer (believe me, I checked); The laundry hampers are completely empty; my bath robe is soft and comfy and smells like Spring.
Yup, you guessed it. I finished the laundry.
I will now sit down in this state of bliss and enjoy the sweet taste of victory. I did it. I really did it!
And I have a whole hour to enjoy this feeling. A whole hour until the family gets home and starts to infestate the place again; can you believe it?
I'm good!
For a few months now we've had a type of infestation in our house. The stuff is everywhere. Everytime I tried to kill it, some more will appear and keeps growing everyday. My attempts to get rid of it are useless; something always happens to keep me from doing this dreadful task. Kids will throw up and beds have to be stripped down; the toilet will flood, and I have to use every towel in the house to dry the floor. It's just a big, cahotic mess.
I don't know exactly how this "plague" spreads so fast. I mean, come on, I'm a mother; I need to care for the kids, cook, clean, help them with homework, grocery shop, the list goes on and on... I don't have time for this!
But yesterday I put my foot down. I said to myself, "that's it. I will do whatever it takes to get rid of this stuff. "
I told my husband (in the nicest way I could) that he had to watch the kids. And fix dinner too, while he's at it. I was on a mission, and I meant business.
After months and months of battling with this, here I am happy to report that my kid's closets smell nice and their clothes are fresh and clean. There is not one sock on the floor or behind the washer and dryer (believe me, I checked); The laundry hampers are completely empty; my bath robe is soft and comfy and smells like Spring.
Yup, you guessed it. I finished the laundry.
I will now sit down in this state of bliss and enjoy the sweet taste of victory. I did it. I really did it!
And I have a whole hour to enjoy this feeling. A whole hour until the family gets home and starts to infestate the place again; can you believe it?
I'm good!
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Milestones
Unstopable dreamer
I went to a bridal shower two days ago. I 've known this young lady since she was 13; now there she was, looking radiant, her cheeks about to pop from smiling. My mind took me to my own bridal shower, which was so much like this one, and I couldn't believe it's been 9 years already....
When it was time to open presents, a particular one stood out. Her mother had made this unique quilt, that came with a letter to explain the meaning behind it. Sarah started reading the letter, and I'm pretty sure everyone in the room was trying hard to hold back tears. The quilt was made from old jeans that belonged to Sarah and her fiancee. Meaning that they would both contribute to a beautiful thing. It was double stitched, meaning that they would now walk side by side. It was put together by both her mom and his mom, representing that they were both brought up by good parents who love them.
The quilt was 23 squares long, (his age), and 19 wide (her age). The backing was a beautiful soft white material, representing the pureness of the Temple they would be married in. There was also in the bag some left over yarn that was used to tie the quilt. The letter said that with time, the quilt will wear out, and will need some mending. This was a job for the two of them to do together: mend the quilt with the original beautiful white yarn.
When I came home I couldn't stop thinking about it. I guess because it's been nine years since my own shower, and I remember all the emotions that came with it. I was told then, "you'll see, when you have a child it would be the greatest thing". Having children was way in the future, but sure enough, the future came quickly and here she was, my precious little daughter. School was something that never worried because she was so young...I'll be able to enjoy her for a whole 5 years! But indeed, the time came that I sent her off to school with tears in my eyes. How does time sneak up behind us like that?
My little princess will be 8 years old in 9 days. In two weeks, she's getting baptized. The reality of this is overwhelming. She can't be growing like this! Something is wrong with the world! Please stop the madness!
As I write this I look at a picture of her in my desk. I'll never be ready to let her go... But I know the day will come, that she'll be stollen from me by a knight in shinning armour.
Her first steps, her first words, her first foods, the first time she said "I love you"... all these past things seem like they happened yesterday. Her baptism, her teenage years, college, marriage, these are things that seem so far away.... But deep inside I know it's the oppositte. It will be here before I know it.
Meanwhile I'll sing with her, I'll color, I'll listen as she speaks about her day at school, I'll kiss her goodnight in her bed when she's asleep, I'll push her on the swings and roll in the grass until we can't stand the laughter anymore.
"I'll love you forever,
I'll like for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be."
I went to a bridal shower two days ago. I 've known this young lady since she was 13; now there she was, looking radiant, her cheeks about to pop from smiling. My mind took me to my own bridal shower, which was so much like this one, and I couldn't believe it's been 9 years already....
When it was time to open presents, a particular one stood out. Her mother had made this unique quilt, that came with a letter to explain the meaning behind it. Sarah started reading the letter, and I'm pretty sure everyone in the room was trying hard to hold back tears. The quilt was made from old jeans that belonged to Sarah and her fiancee. Meaning that they would both contribute to a beautiful thing. It was double stitched, meaning that they would now walk side by side. It was put together by both her mom and his mom, representing that they were both brought up by good parents who love them.
The quilt was 23 squares long, (his age), and 19 wide (her age). The backing was a beautiful soft white material, representing the pureness of the Temple they would be married in. There was also in the bag some left over yarn that was used to tie the quilt. The letter said that with time, the quilt will wear out, and will need some mending. This was a job for the two of them to do together: mend the quilt with the original beautiful white yarn.
When I came home I couldn't stop thinking about it. I guess because it's been nine years since my own shower, and I remember all the emotions that came with it. I was told then, "you'll see, when you have a child it would be the greatest thing". Having children was way in the future, but sure enough, the future came quickly and here she was, my precious little daughter. School was something that never worried because she was so young...I'll be able to enjoy her for a whole 5 years! But indeed, the time came that I sent her off to school with tears in my eyes. How does time sneak up behind us like that?
My little princess will be 8 years old in 9 days. In two weeks, she's getting baptized. The reality of this is overwhelming. She can't be growing like this! Something is wrong with the world! Please stop the madness!
As I write this I look at a picture of her in my desk. I'll never be ready to let her go... But I know the day will come, that she'll be stollen from me by a knight in shinning armour.
Her first steps, her first words, her first foods, the first time she said "I love you"... all these past things seem like they happened yesterday. Her baptism, her teenage years, college, marriage, these are things that seem so far away.... But deep inside I know it's the oppositte. It will be here before I know it.
Meanwhile I'll sing with her, I'll color, I'll listen as she speaks about her day at school, I'll kiss her goodnight in her bed when she's asleep, I'll push her on the swings and roll in the grass until we can't stand the laughter anymore.
"I'll love you forever,
I'll like for always,
As long as I'm living,
My baby you'll be."
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
To eat or not to eat
Unstopable dreamer
I have a picky eater at home.
You're probably nodding and thinking "me too"; but my picky eater is different. He's... funny. I know a mother shouldn't think that her child that doesn't eat is funny, but seriously, this kid cracks me up. He's 4 years old and he's pretty much sure of what he wants and who he is.
I'll give you an example: He doesn't like MacDonald's food, which is actually great; but since my 7 year old girl loves it, when she gets a happy meal he has to have one too... (don't you love those cute toys...). So, I end up eating the french fries and drinking the sprite and the hamburguer just sits there until someone remembers to throw it away.
He just nibbles on his pizza, eats the sandwich without the meat or cheese(aka--bread), and eats a teaspoon of his chocolate pudding. He's great at looking at something delicious and say he doesn't like it. That's just him; We've tried all the techniques we heard of. Nothing will make him change.
However, (and here come the funny part).... My picky eater has three things that he will eat. Yup, three things.
First, oatmeal.
Second, grits.
Third, brocolli. He will shove his brocolli all in is mouth as if it was chocolate cake. People think this is great... but really, can you see yourself cooking all those three things every single day? I don't. And I won't. He'll grow out of it eventually; at least that's what I choose to believe.
So, the next time you're in a restaurant and hear a little boy cry while his mother tells him "NO MORE BROCOLLI UNTIL YOU EAT YOUR MAC AND CHEESE!", please wave and say hello. You just met me.
I have a picky eater at home.
You're probably nodding and thinking "me too"; but my picky eater is different. He's... funny. I know a mother shouldn't think that her child that doesn't eat is funny, but seriously, this kid cracks me up. He's 4 years old and he's pretty much sure of what he wants and who he is.
I'll give you an example: He doesn't like MacDonald's food, which is actually great; but since my 7 year old girl loves it, when she gets a happy meal he has to have one too... (don't you love those cute toys...). So, I end up eating the french fries and drinking the sprite and the hamburguer just sits there until someone remembers to throw it away.
He just nibbles on his pizza, eats the sandwich without the meat or cheese(aka--bread), and eats a teaspoon of his chocolate pudding. He's great at looking at something delicious and say he doesn't like it. That's just him; We've tried all the techniques we heard of. Nothing will make him change.
However, (and here come the funny part).... My picky eater has three things that he will eat. Yup, three things.
First, oatmeal.
Second, grits.
Third, brocolli. He will shove his brocolli all in is mouth as if it was chocolate cake. People think this is great... but really, can you see yourself cooking all those three things every single day? I don't. And I won't. He'll grow out of it eventually; at least that's what I choose to believe.
So, the next time you're in a restaurant and hear a little boy cry while his mother tells him "NO MORE BROCOLLI UNTIL YOU EAT YOUR MAC AND CHEESE!", please wave and say hello. You just met me.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Hummmmmm...
Not really sure what I'm doing here. Seriously. I was just playing with my computer and here I am. I guess that means I'll have to write some stuff every now and then, huh?
At least I can say I'm in fashion tho. A blog. Wow! I might become cool now!
So yeah, that's it for now. I'll be seeing you around...
At least I can say I'm in fashion tho. A blog. Wow! I might become cool now!
So yeah, that's it for now. I'll be seeing you around...
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