| Selection | ||
| 9 |  10% | 1 |
| 24 |  70% | 7 |
| 56 |  10% | 1 |
| 71 |  0% | 0 |
| 98 |  10% | 1 |
 | | |
| 10 votes total | ||
Thursday, December 28, 2006
It's Amazing
Ten votes, and you're all wrong. What are the odds of that? The correct answer is 71.
How many toys were in the poop water?
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Anyone got a snowblower?
There isn't a decent snowblower to be had for miles around, and we have (supposedly) another two big snow storms moving through in the next 48 hours. I can get me a Poulan from Amazon.com, which they say I can have by Friday, but I don't see how they can deliver it in the middle of a blizzard.
You now, when I moved here, I checked as to whether I should get a snowblower. I was told it simply never snows enough to need one. This is what I get for listening to CJ. In the immortal words of Rico, "F-in' CJ."
We did, however, manage to satisfy The Mrs. by buying the world's most expensive non-commercial-grade elliptical trainer today. I managed to talk The Mrs. out of trying to get a junky one at Sports Authority yesterday, and came home and researched these things. Then, today we went to 5 different stores and managed to come away with something that wasn't on my list but that happened to be $500 more than anything at was.
After like 45 minutes each at two of the 5 stores (the other 3 being washouts), The Mrs. had it all narrowed down between a $2000 model and a $3500 model. Guess which one she bought. Yeah. That's right.
She better use that thing every single day, cuz for $3500 we could have gotten all kinds of things. Like a new set of boobs, for instance, which is the kind of thing that really can be used every day. Or a supercharger kit of the truck. Or almost 10 years of membership at Curves.
Or, as The Mrs. asserts, six months worth of wine. Somehow, she figured I personally drank a $20 bottle of wine each and every day. I'm not sure I even own any $20 bottles of wine, much less drink one every day. I think we as a family go through about 2 bottles a week, and they average about $14 a bottle. So maybe that's two years worth of wine.
I could also have gotten three really nice snowblowers. Though I only need one.
You now, when I moved here, I checked as to whether I should get a snowblower. I was told it simply never snows enough to need one. This is what I get for listening to CJ. In the immortal words of Rico, "F-in' CJ."
We did, however, manage to satisfy The Mrs. by buying the world's most expensive non-commercial-grade elliptical trainer today. I managed to talk The Mrs. out of trying to get a junky one at Sports Authority yesterday, and came home and researched these things. Then, today we went to 5 different stores and managed to come away with something that wasn't on my list but that happened to be $500 more than anything at was.
After like 45 minutes each at two of the 5 stores (the other 3 being washouts), The Mrs. had it all narrowed down between a $2000 model and a $3500 model. Guess which one she bought. Yeah. That's right.
She better use that thing every single day, cuz for $3500 we could have gotten all kinds of things. Like a new set of boobs, for instance, which is the kind of thing that really can be used every day. Or a supercharger kit of the truck. Or almost 10 years of membership at Curves.
Or, as The Mrs. asserts, six months worth of wine. Somehow, she figured I personally drank a $20 bottle of wine each and every day. I'm not sure I even own any $20 bottles of wine, much less drink one every day. I think we as a family go through about 2 bottles a week, and they average about $14 a bottle. So maybe that's two years worth of wine.
I could also have gotten three really nice snowblowers. Though I only need one.
Mr. Hanky Visits for Christmas
Been a couple days since my last post. A couple fun-filled days, including Christmas itself. I'll have a comprehensive Christmas summary at some later date (probably after next Christmas), since these kinds of things tend to be a bit dull. Already, my life is too dull for AdSense context sensitive advertising, which is running hurricane relief public service announcements instead of cash-paying ads again.
Overall, Christmas went very smoothly. The childrens were both surprised that they did not get any charcoal in their stocking, unlike last year. This is mainly because I have a gas gill at the new house, and I gave away my old charcoal grill along with all the charcoal before I moved. So I didn't have any available.
HannahC got so excited that she kept thinking she was going to throw up. She would stuff her face full of Christmas goodies (cookies, candy, chips, etc.), and then run around like a crazy idiot for a while, then run to the bathroom and sit in front of the porcelain alter saying some prayers. I was pretty sure I was going to get a good barf-blogging story out of it, but alas, she held in her cookies.
When evening rolled around, I put MaxieC into the big tub so he could try out his Mater motor-oil can bubble soap and his foaming spray bath soap. Things were going along swimmingly when suddenly he yells, "I need to go poop!" I run him to the toiley, and he makes poop in there. Everyone is happy. Except I remember last time. I'm not going to leave a log in there to be found in the morning this time. I search all over the tub, pushing the toys and bubbles aside - no log. I examine and cross-examine MaxieC about whether he left a present in the tub. No log.
So I return him to the tub.
A little while later, he stands up. He's looking down into the water forlornly. What's up, MaxieC?
"I pooped!"
Oh crap.
There, just behind his feet, is a magnificent log. It's as big as his arm. Or, at least, it seems to be. I holler for The Mrs. I can't deal with this on my own. The poop. The boy with poop on his bottom. The toys. Too much for me.
The Mrs. comes up and immediately blames me for MaxieC pooping. She told me he wouldn't have pooped if I had been watching him.
Like he's never pooped in the tub when she's giving him his bath. She has a very selective memory, that one. I hear all wives are like that, but this is the only one I have, so I can't say for sure.
Anyways, my job was to fish out the bath toys and wash them. Seems simple, right?
Answer will be posted in a couple days. In case you don't know who Mr. Hanky is, he's the Christmas Poo.
Overall, Christmas went very smoothly. The childrens were both surprised that they did not get any charcoal in their stocking, unlike last year. This is mainly because I have a gas gill at the new house, and I gave away my old charcoal grill along with all the charcoal before I moved. So I didn't have any available.
HannahC got so excited that she kept thinking she was going to throw up. She would stuff her face full of Christmas goodies (cookies, candy, chips, etc.), and then run around like a crazy idiot for a while, then run to the bathroom and sit in front of the porcelain alter saying some prayers. I was pretty sure I was going to get a good barf-blogging story out of it, but alas, she held in her cookies.
When evening rolled around, I put MaxieC into the big tub so he could try out his Mater motor-oil can bubble soap and his foaming spray bath soap. Things were going along swimmingly when suddenly he yells, "I need to go poop!" I run him to the toiley, and he makes poop in there. Everyone is happy. Except I remember last time. I'm not going to leave a log in there to be found in the morning this time. I search all over the tub, pushing the toys and bubbles aside - no log. I examine and cross-examine MaxieC about whether he left a present in the tub. No log.
So I return him to the tub.
A little while later, he stands up. He's looking down into the water forlornly. What's up, MaxieC?
"I pooped!"
Oh crap.
There, just behind his feet, is a magnificent log. It's as big as his arm. Or, at least, it seems to be. I holler for The Mrs. I can't deal with this on my own. The poop. The boy with poop on his bottom. The toys. Too much for me.
The Mrs. comes up and immediately blames me for MaxieC pooping. She told me he wouldn't have pooped if I had been watching him.
Like he's never pooped in the tub when she's giving him his bath. She has a very selective memory, that one. I hear all wives are like that, but this is the only one I have, so I can't say for sure.
Anyways, my job was to fish out the bath toys and wash them. Seems simple, right?
Answer will be posted in a couple days. In case you don't know who Mr. Hanky is, he's the Christmas Poo.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Merry Christmas
Pretend like I said something profoundly moving about peace on Earth and good will toward men here. I'm all out of profound right now.
Lucy
I made mention once before about how we're mummifying a chicken that HannahC has named, "Lucy." We did another chemical change recently, and I had The Mrs. capture much of it on non-volatile memory. (Some of the photos are taken by Me, CherkyB. I don't remember which ones.)
Like Egyptian high priestesses before here, HannahC starts out with the a greeting ritual meant to awaken the soul of the departed. She's using a "Un brat di sei anni" here, which is one of her favorites, though it was not one favored by the high priestesses of either the Old or New Egyptian Kingdoms. Lucy is in the Ziploc.
Cleaning the old mixture off into the sink. Lucy begins to take shape.
HannahC performs a procedure similar to a modern D&C, only she does it with her fingers.
Lucy, looking a bit shriveled. Progress!
Hello, World.
Now to mix up the new dessication blend. Start with a half can of baking power.
Add a full can of salt.
And a half box of baking soda. The desiccant is complete. However, we need to spice it up a little to make Lucy smell good in the afterlife.
Now HannahC, remember that Mommy is very attached to her nutmeg, and there's eggnog in the fridge.
Cinnamon. Smart'n'Final sized.
Mix, mix, mix.
Little snack - mummification is hungry work.
I'm sure the house slaves will clean up after me if I make a giant f'ing mess.
A house slave transfers the body bag into the Ziploc for the addition of the mixture.
Oooo- smells like cinnamon. Stinkaaaayyyy!
Mummify, mummify, mummify.
The house slave is overcome with the emotion of the moment. Oh dear gods, why have you taken Lucy from us when she was so young? And next time, send better beer.
Like Egyptian high priestesses before here, HannahC starts out with the a greeting ritual meant to awaken the soul of the departed. She's using a "Un brat di sei anni" here, which is one of her favorites, though it was not one favored by the high priestesses of either the Old or New Egyptian Kingdoms. Lucy is in the Ziploc.
Cleaning the old mixture off into the sink. Lucy begins to take shape.
HannahC performs a procedure similar to a modern D&C, only she does it with her fingers.
Lucy, looking a bit shriveled. Progress!
Hello, World.
Now to mix up the new dessication blend. Start with a half can of baking power.
Add a full can of salt.
And a half box of baking soda. The desiccant is complete. However, we need to spice it up a little to make Lucy smell good in the afterlife.
Now HannahC, remember that Mommy is very attached to her nutmeg, and there's eggnog in the fridge.
Cinnamon. Smart'n'Final sized.
Mix, mix, mix.
Little snack - mummification is hungry work.
I'm sure the house slaves will clean up after me if I make a giant f'ing mess.
A house slave transfers the body bag into the Ziploc for the addition of the mixture.
Oooo- smells like cinnamon. Stinkaaaayyyy!
Mummify, mummify, mummify.
The house slave is overcome with the emotion of the moment. Oh dear gods, why have you taken Lucy from us when she was so young? And next time, send better beer.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Continuing Coverage of El Blizzardo
Our household has weathered El Blizzardo quite well. At least, compared to poor CJ and his leaking roof. You can also find some more local coverage of El Blizzardo over at Cavagnaro Blogger.
The snow piled up against the guest room window really makes the scene perfect.
Thursday was garbage day. So, dutifully, I spent 20 minutes dragging my garbage can out through about a foot and a half of snow on Wednesday night. This is a shot taken by The Mrs. on Thursday morning. I call it "The Optimist."
The snow piled up against the guest room window really makes the scene perfect.
Thursday was garbage day. So, dutifully, I spent 20 minutes dragging my garbage can out through about a foot and a half of snow on Wednesday night. This is a shot taken by The Mrs. on Thursday morning. I call it "The Optimist."
The garbage can is still sitting there today, though now the neighbors have started to set theirs out as well. Do they know something I don't?
We had a snowdrift that covered up most of the clerestory window in the entranceway. That would mean snow about 20 feet deep!
I had this bizarre idea that there were four of us, including the two childrens, and we had four shovels, including two children's shovels, and that seemed like an ideal combination to get some work done.
Most of the work we got done was posing for photographs. The snow was past MaxieC's waist, so any time he venture anywhere that wasn't shoveled, he got stuck and started hollering, "I need help! I need help!"
HannahC, on the other hand, spent most of her time figuring out where I was shoveling, and standing right directly there.
This is how much we managed to shovel during the day. Almost one truck-length. I put it in 4WD to see if I could power myself out to the street. I made it much of the way before giving up. The street wasn't plowed yet, either. I could have made it if I had needed to.
A team of people with skid loaders showed up later in the day to clear the streets. This guy promptly got stuck. He spent about 10 minutes trying to get free. They managed to plow one car-width around the whole subdivision yesterday. This skid loaders have been zooming around all day today and have managed to get most everything opened up.
Right before dark, I got clearance from The Mrs. to go shovel some more. I spend about an hour and a half and got almost all the way to the street. Poor, lonely garbage can.
The skid loader guys cleaned out that last 10 feet this morning. So I've been working on the part up next to the truck that leads to the garage bay where the winivan is parked.
The World from MaxieC's Perspective
One of the great things about digital cameras is that they give an inexpensive outlet for the creative energies of a two-year-old. What follows is a series of images captured by MaxieC. I have posted the entire series in chronological order in order to preserve the artist's vision. As always, if you click on a picture, you can see the full-sized version of it.
Being a renowned art-critic, I will provide commentary for you, my less-accomplished reader.
This first vision is taken from the fambly room looking into the kitchen. In it, the artist has carefully posed the man to form a moving juxtaposition with the white column. Note how the oblique angle of the man's torso perfectly matches that of the column, and how the white of the column and the man's shirt blend together in a way that is just slightly not perfect enough to look fake. The viewer is presented with an image that draws parallels between the tall, strong, and lean man with those same characteristics of the column.
This next vision, which the artist entitled "My Banana," is a comment on the decadence and wastefulness of a Western society that drives continual destruction of the rain forests in a never-ending effort to feed the ever-growing consumerism of a culture in decline.
The artist raises his eyes in an effort to connect to God. He sees the light. But then he is overcome with a feeling that perhaps even God is simply an invention of the Western, capitalist machine. His vision is one of ennui.
Adrift from questioning the existence of God and the meaning, and perhaps even being, of his own existence, the artist searches desperately for an anchor point. This vision captures the sense of smallness, of lack of control, eyes veering quickly from one object to another in a frantic, almost panicked search for guidance.
And there it is. Just when all seemed lost, onto the scene charges the unlikely character of the lead guitarist for Flo Jackson. Is this the artist's Brian Boitano moment?
Look, look. The call of decadence. Do not fight. Do not search for deeper meaning. Let Flo Jackson guide you. Look, there is a funny, talking penguin.
The artist no longer searches the heavens. The artist's vision is one of eyes cast downwards in shameful complicity.
The artist, in this self-portrait, is conveying how his surrender to Western decadence has cost him his focus, his definition. The lure of the funny penguin is too much for our young souls.
Being a renowned art-critic, I will provide commentary for you, my less-accomplished reader.
This first vision is taken from the fambly room looking into the kitchen. In it, the artist has carefully posed the man to form a moving juxtaposition with the white column. Note how the oblique angle of the man's torso perfectly matches that of the column, and how the white of the column and the man's shirt blend together in a way that is just slightly not perfect enough to look fake. The viewer is presented with an image that draws parallels between the tall, strong, and lean man with those same characteristics of the column.
This next vision, which the artist entitled "My Banana," is a comment on the decadence and wastefulness of a Western society that drives continual destruction of the rain forests in a never-ending effort to feed the ever-growing consumerism of a culture in decline.
The artist raises his eyes in an effort to connect to God. He sees the light. But then he is overcome with a feeling that perhaps even God is simply an invention of the Western, capitalist machine. His vision is one of ennui.
Adrift from questioning the existence of God and the meaning, and perhaps even being, of his own existence, the artist searches desperately for an anchor point. This vision captures the sense of smallness, of lack of control, eyes veering quickly from one object to another in a frantic, almost panicked search for guidance.
And there it is. Just when all seemed lost, onto the scene charges the unlikely character of the lead guitarist for Flo Jackson. Is this the artist's Brian Boitano moment?
Look, look. The call of decadence. Do not fight. Do not search for deeper meaning. Let Flo Jackson guide you. Look, there is a funny, talking penguin.
The artist no longer searches the heavens. The artist's vision is one of eyes cast downwards in shameful complicity.
The artist, in this self-portrait, is conveying how his surrender to Western decadence has cost him his focus, his definition. The lure of the funny penguin is too much for our young souls.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Any Day Now
A conversation from last night.
HannahC: "Daddy, I want to leave a carrot for each of the reindeer this year, not just for Rudolph."
Me, CherkyB: "OK."
HannahC: "I think all the reindeer want a snack. It's not fair that only Rudolph gets one."
Me, CherkyB: "Well, they take turns eating the carrots."
HannahC: "I don't think Santa has time to keep track of whose turn it is and make sure none of the reindeer take someone else's turn."
Me, CherkyB: "Mmmm..."
HannahC: "Daddy? I think Rudolph may just be a myth."
Me, CherkyB: "Really? Why is that?"
HannahC: "Well, it just doesn't make any sense. How can his nose glow? He doesn't have a lightbulb or anything. It's just made out of regular nose."
Me, CherkyB: "Well kiddo, the reindeer fly, too. And they're just made out of regular reindeer. You see, it's magic. And one of the problems with magic is that once you alter something with magic, like making reindeer so that they can fly, after a while you get what's called 'mutations.' And these can be very strange. You'll learn about mutations in science when you get more advanced."
HannahC: "Oh. I think it might still be a myth, though."
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
El Blizzardo
Yesterday, all The Mrs. could talk about was the big blizzard we were supposed to have. But the weather forcast kept pushing out the start of the blizzard. First, it was supposed to be Tuesday afternoon, then evening, then 6am Wednesday, then noon Wednesday. I was skeptical. When I got up in the morning with MaxieC, I looked out the window, and nothing. Some wind blowing around the trees.
As it got lighter, the snow began to fall a bit. The first thing I noticed was that the waterfall in the near pond in the back had stopped. The pump had been sucking some air, due to low water level for a while, but I hadn't gotten out there to deal with it. I went out to investigate. Both ponds in the back were freezing over. The near one had its water level below the intake level, and the de-icing heater was beached on the rocks above the water level.
So I had to get out the hose and fill up the ponds. I knew I should have filled those things Saturday when it was 40 degrees.
Here I am surveying the situation. It's not all that cold (about 20 degrees), but there's quite a wind. You can't tell from the picture, but there's also a light, horizontal snow that makes it impossible to see to the east without some kind of eye protection. Not much accumulation yet.
FreddyC came out with me to check things out. He didn't last all that long before heading back inside to the warmth.
I got the waterfall going again. The pond started to de-ice, but shortly thereafter it started snowing much harder and started to re-ice. Oddly, when we had that week of 10 degree temperatures, the ponds never iced at all, but 20 degrees with snow causes them to freeze. The snow landing on the surface of the ice appears to not melt and eventually form a layer of ice, from what I observed.
The giant 1500 watt de-icer sits over by the intake. It is doing its job of keeping the intake from icing up, but it's not doing a whole hell of a lot more than that.
Being originally from Barfalo, I have some experience with these snowstorm things. I know you need to get out there and periodically clear the driveway, cuz if you wait until the whole two feet fall before you clear any of it, it's gonna be trouble. I managed to clear about 1/10 of the driveway before I got tired of shoveling. Plus, I was supposed to be watching MaxieC during that time so that HannieC and The Mrs. could do the homeschooling. I was overcome with guilt.
I took this picture about an hour later. The shoveled area has begun to fill in, and all you can see is the little mound between where I shoveled and where I didn't. Still not a whole hell of a lot of accumulation.
Nighttime got more interesting. The snow started falling harder. I tried to get a shot of the snow drift piling up by the play house, but mostly I got a shot of the snow falling.
I tried to take a photo of the three lit up pine trees in my neighbor's yard, but again, mostly I just got snow.
MaxieC checks out my fancy shoveling work a few hours later. Aside from the pile of snow at the side of the drive, there is no visible sign anyone ever shoveled anything. He insisted on doing this barefoot despite me warning him that he'd freeze his feet. Then he insisted on actually walking in the snow barefoot despite me warning him that he'd freeze his feet. Then he insisted on screaming bloody murder because his feet were cold.
Sometimes, childrens just need to learn for themselves.
About 8pm, the wind picked up nicely again. Here are a couple shots out our fambly room windows. The first shot was taken by me, the second by The Mrs. about a half-hour later.
The Mrs. and I both really enjoy blizzards. This is what happens to you if you are raised in Barfalo and then move to sunny Kaliforn-i-a. You get withdrawal.
As it got lighter, the snow began to fall a bit. The first thing I noticed was that the waterfall in the near pond in the back had stopped. The pump had been sucking some air, due to low water level for a while, but I hadn't gotten out there to deal with it. I went out to investigate. Both ponds in the back were freezing over. The near one had its water level below the intake level, and the de-icing heater was beached on the rocks above the water level.
So I had to get out the hose and fill up the ponds. I knew I should have filled those things Saturday when it was 40 degrees.
Here I am surveying the situation. It's not all that cold (about 20 degrees), but there's quite a wind. You can't tell from the picture, but there's also a light, horizontal snow that makes it impossible to see to the east without some kind of eye protection. Not much accumulation yet.
FreddyC came out with me to check things out. He didn't last all that long before heading back inside to the warmth.
I got the waterfall going again. The pond started to de-ice, but shortly thereafter it started snowing much harder and started to re-ice. Oddly, when we had that week of 10 degree temperatures, the ponds never iced at all, but 20 degrees with snow causes them to freeze. The snow landing on the surface of the ice appears to not melt and eventually form a layer of ice, from what I observed.
The giant 1500 watt de-icer sits over by the intake. It is doing its job of keeping the intake from icing up, but it's not doing a whole hell of a lot more than that.
Being originally from Barfalo, I have some experience with these snowstorm things. I know you need to get out there and periodically clear the driveway, cuz if you wait until the whole two feet fall before you clear any of it, it's gonna be trouble. I managed to clear about 1/10 of the driveway before I got tired of shoveling. Plus, I was supposed to be watching MaxieC during that time so that HannieC and The Mrs. could do the homeschooling. I was overcome with guilt.
I took this picture about an hour later. The shoveled area has begun to fill in, and all you can see is the little mound between where I shoveled and where I didn't. Still not a whole hell of a lot of accumulation.
Nighttime got more interesting. The snow started falling harder. I tried to get a shot of the snow drift piling up by the play house, but mostly I got a shot of the snow falling.
I tried to take a photo of the three lit up pine trees in my neighbor's yard, but again, mostly I just got snow.
MaxieC checks out my fancy shoveling work a few hours later. Aside from the pile of snow at the side of the drive, there is no visible sign anyone ever shoveled anything. He insisted on doing this barefoot despite me warning him that he'd freeze his feet. Then he insisted on actually walking in the snow barefoot despite me warning him that he'd freeze his feet. Then he insisted on screaming bloody murder because his feet were cold.
Sometimes, childrens just need to learn for themselves.
About 8pm, the wind picked up nicely again. Here are a couple shots out our fambly room windows. The first shot was taken by me, the second by The Mrs. about a half-hour later.
The Mrs. and I both really enjoy blizzards. This is what happens to you if you are raised in Barfalo and then move to sunny Kaliforn-i-a. You get withdrawal.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
That's Weird
When I converted to "New Blogger" from "Classic Blogger", every comment ever left on my blog from a "Beta Blogger" has had the commenter's name removed and replaced with "anonymous". Rhonda first pointed this out, but I can't find any trace of JohnnyB, either. This only affected bloggers using beta, as the comments from all the classic users are still have their names there, as do all the comment using the made-up names Fat Moother is so fond uf.
However, it looks like fresh comments from "new-formerly-beta blogger" accounts are working.
You get what you pay for with blog hosting services.
However, it looks like fresh comments from "new-formerly-beta blogger" accounts are working.
You get what you pay for with blog hosting services.
Day 4 of 17 - 0 for 20ish
The potty training is going poorly. I'd like to issue a correction to a previous post. In that post, I talked about what a wonderful job MaxieC had done to poop on the potty. Well, one thing I did not mention was that he had been in the bath tub at the time of his declaration of needing to poop, and me yanking him out of the tub and setting him on the potty immediately. Oh, and it was a bubble-bath.
The next morning, The Mrs. calls down the stairs, "I think you missed something in the tub." I go to investigate.
There, sitting quietly along the side of the tub, is a poop log. A Code Brownie.
So I guess he was really 1 for 7 that day.
That remains his best day thus far. Monday and today he has had a zero success rate. Zero. The kid won't even sit on the potty for me. His mother can get him on for a little while, but he never does any bidness.
I am thinking it may be too soon. We shall see.
In other news, The Mrs. decided to take a bunches of MaxieC's old toys to the used toy store in order to make room for the new stuff for Christmas. She started collecting it last night, and MaxieC caught on to her pretty quickly and started hollering. Somehow, she assuaged his fears at the time.
This morning, she went off to the used toy store for like two hours (apparently, everyone in Fort TomCollins had the same idea, and they all saw the same weather forecast that said we'd have a blizzard for the next two days and decided to got there this morning). I got stuck making crepes for breakfast because of how long she was gone and on account of the fact she had promised crepes to HannahC.
Not that I'm objecting to making breakfast, mind you. I'll make breakfast with no objection. I object to crepes. Now, those of you who follow along probably figure this is because they're French, and I hate everything French just because it's French. Except French Canadians. I hate them because they're Canadians.
But I digress.
I hate crepes mainly because you can only cook one at a time, they take about 3 minutes each, and a meal is 5 of them. And with 3.5 people, you're looking at an hour (including mixing time). This is just a remarkably time-inefficient breakfast. Which is just fine for those French F'ks, cuz they have nothing to contribute to the world with their time other than sitting around making inefficient meals and, maybe, poking fun at the British and Spanish. I, on the other hand, had a brand new issue of America's First Freedom to read.
Anyways, in the middle of all this crepe cooking, The Mrs. came home. She was holding two puzzles in her hand, and I said, "Hey, don't we already have those?" She said, "Yeah - they didn't want these."
This is all MaxieC needed to hear. He started wailing, gnashing his teeth, and all that, about how he didn't want his toys to sold to the used toy store. He wanted them back. They were his. Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.
So, The Mrs. applied time-tested logic.
She gave him the Rescue Rangers she had picked up at the store for him for Christmas.
The next morning, The Mrs. calls down the stairs, "I think you missed something in the tub." I go to investigate.
There, sitting quietly along the side of the tub, is a poop log. A Code Brownie.
So I guess he was really 1 for 7 that day.
That remains his best day thus far. Monday and today he has had a zero success rate. Zero. The kid won't even sit on the potty for me. His mother can get him on for a little while, but he never does any bidness.
I am thinking it may be too soon. We shall see.
In other news, The Mrs. decided to take a bunches of MaxieC's old toys to the used toy store in order to make room for the new stuff for Christmas. She started collecting it last night, and MaxieC caught on to her pretty quickly and started hollering. Somehow, she assuaged his fears at the time.
This morning, she went off to the used toy store for like two hours (apparently, everyone in Fort TomCollins had the same idea, and they all saw the same weather forecast that said we'd have a blizzard for the next two days and decided to got there this morning). I got stuck making crepes for breakfast because of how long she was gone and on account of the fact she had promised crepes to HannahC.
Not that I'm objecting to making breakfast, mind you. I'll make breakfast with no objection. I object to crepes. Now, those of you who follow along probably figure this is because they're French, and I hate everything French just because it's French. Except French Canadians. I hate them because they're Canadians.
But I digress.
I hate crepes mainly because you can only cook one at a time, they take about 3 minutes each, and a meal is 5 of them. And with 3.5 people, you're looking at an hour (including mixing time). This is just a remarkably time-inefficient breakfast. Which is just fine for those French F'ks, cuz they have nothing to contribute to the world with their time other than sitting around making inefficient meals and, maybe, poking fun at the British and Spanish. I, on the other hand, had a brand new issue of America's First Freedom to read.
Anyways, in the middle of all this crepe cooking, The Mrs. came home. She was holding two puzzles in her hand, and I said, "Hey, don't we already have those?" She said, "Yeah - they didn't want these."
This is all MaxieC needed to hear. He started wailing, gnashing his teeth, and all that, about how he didn't want his toys to sold to the used toy store. He wanted them back. They were his. Kvetch, kvetch, kvetch.
So, The Mrs. applied time-tested logic.
She gave him the Rescue Rangers she had picked up at the store for him for Christmas.
The Mrs. - Comedic Genius
As we've covered in the past, The Mrs. is a comedic genius. She mostly keeps her mouth shut when it comes to comedy, which is a big part of her genius, but when she decides to let loose, whoa Nelly.
So, yesterday HannahC was getting home schooled, and she was complaining that she wanted to go outside and play instead. Here is what transpired:
Bwaaaa-haa-haa-haa!
"The teacher is held accountable." It still kills me!
So, yesterday HannahC was getting home schooled, and she was complaining that she wanted to go outside and play instead. Here is what transpired:
HannahC: "I want to go outside an play. Why can't we have recess first?"
The Mrs.: "If you were at school, you wouldn't get to have recess first thing in the morning."
HannahC: "Why not?"
The Mrs.: "Because the teacher is held accountable [for your learning]."
Bwaaaa-haa-haa-haa!
"The teacher is held accountable." It still kills me!
Beta is Released
Blogger's beta version has reached release quality. That means I'll have to transition over to it. I'm hoping that doesn't mean I'll become a really crappy blog like most of the beta-blogs I've seen. I'm hoping it just means a little change in some interfaces that will be transparent to the reader.
We shall see.
[Update: OK I converted. When I look at the site directly it looks all f'd up, but when I preview it from inside the blogger editor, it looks just fine. I'll have to debug.]
[Update again: Well, I closed the window and re-opened it, and all is well. I dunno what's up with that. But there it is.]
We shall see.
[Update: OK I converted. When I look at the site directly it looks all f'd up, but when I preview it from inside the blogger editor, it looks just fine. I'll have to debug.]
[Update again: Well, I closed the window and re-opened it, and all is well. I dunno what's up with that. But there it is.]
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Day 2 of 17 - Really about today
The Mrs. was concerned about how I would describe the start of my vacation on the old blog here. She suggested this,
When I got my lazy butt outta bed this morning, The Mrs. prompted MaxieC to show me what he had on. Which was weird, cuz I was looking right at him. But MaxieC complies and immediately drops trou to show me his underwear. I think it was Mater underwear. That's right, folks. It was potty-training Sunday. An odd coincidence that Cavitation is potty-training one of his the same time we're potty-training MaxieC. Or perhaps it simply most convenient to potty-train over the holidays and this is no coincidence.
Little MaxieC was roughly two for seven in the potty vs. pants battle today. His success rate, though, was a much higher one for two when it came to the all-important poop. I got to be the master of ceremonies for the success there, and when he was done, we had this conversation:
Running the risk of turning into a Mommyblogger, I'll tell one more precious story about The Childrens. This one is about HannieC. As I mentioned earlier, we had seen Santa yesterday. Each of The Childrens asked for only one thing. Santa seemed genuinely surprised by that, and he even said, "Well, with such a short list, I'll have to think of some other little things to bring you so you have more packages to open up."
I was chatting with HannieC this afternoon about her Santa experience, and I noted that Santa seemed surprised she asked for just one thing. I guess that means most kids ask for a whole lot of stuff, I said.
"The vacation started out like all vacations do. Sick and hungover."Har, har, har. I was not hungover. She only wanted me to be. I was, however, sick. Bit of a head cold is all. But I've had to take some decongestants, and it has affected my mood by making me more pleasant than normal.
When I got my lazy butt outta bed this morning, The Mrs. prompted MaxieC to show me what he had on. Which was weird, cuz I was looking right at him. But MaxieC complies and immediately drops trou to show me his underwear. I think it was Mater underwear. That's right, folks. It was potty-training Sunday. An odd coincidence that Cavitation is potty-training one of his the same time we're potty-training MaxieC. Or perhaps it simply most convenient to potty-train over the holidays and this is no coincidence.
Little MaxieC was roughly two for seven in the potty vs. pants battle today. His success rate, though, was a much higher one for two when it came to the all-important poop. I got to be the master of ceremonies for the success there, and when he was done, we had this conversation:
Me, CherkyB: "All right MaxieC! You pooped in the potty!"So there you have it.
MaxieC: "There's a log in the potty!"
Me, CherkyB: "That's poop."
MaxieC: "No. It's a poop log!
Running the risk of turning into a Mommyblogger, I'll tell one more precious story about The Childrens. This one is about HannieC. As I mentioned earlier, we had seen Santa yesterday. Each of The Childrens asked for only one thing. Santa seemed genuinely surprised by that, and he even said, "Well, with such a short list, I'll have to think of some other little things to bring you so you have more packages to open up."
I was chatting with HannieC this afternoon about her Santa experience, and I noted that Santa seemed surprised she asked for just one thing. I guess that means most kids ask for a whole lot of stuff, I said.
HannieC: "Yeah. I have pretty much everything I need, yet you and Mommy keep buying me more."HannieC, Super-genius.
Me, CherkyB: "Well, it's mostly just Mommy buying you more."
HannieC: "She's turning me into a little Veruca Salt."
Tag This.
I was catching up on some of my blog reading this evening, and I was reading about how Rhonda got tagged by NavieA-B. When I got to the end of the post, I was looking at the list of blogs that she tagged, and I was wondering to myself, "Self, she tagged Cavitation, but she didn't tag Me, CherkyB. Rhonda and I go way back, and she was just introduced to Cavitation's blog on Wednesday. I wonder what's up with that."
Then I sat and I pondered. Being a remarkably (remarkably!) intelligent person, I almost immediately said, "Oh sh!t. I bet that NavieA-B tagged me in that long, rambling, and difficult to read because of the bizarre jumble of font sizes, colors, and even languages post that I didn't make it all the way through before giving up."
So I went back and tried to read it again, but still to no avail. So I scanned to the end, and sure enough, she tagged me. Now, much like The JohnnyB, I'm not a "participator". Not unless there's something in it for me. But, since NavieA-B is one of my better customers, I'll play along a little.
The rules as they are stated by NavieA-B:
- Find the nearest book.
- Name the book and the author.
- Turn to page 123.
- Go to the fifth sentence on the page.
- Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
- Tag three more folks.
Her font color. Not mine.
OK, so here goes:
"Official Bartender's and Party Guide" by Mr. Boston. (One of my favorite authors, I might add.)
1 dash Bitters
Mix with cracked ice and pour, with ice, into chilled parfait or hurricane glass with a salted rim. Garnish with a lemon wheel.
Page 123 happens to be in a chapter called, simply enough, "Tequila." Not one of my favorite chapters, but it is a favorite of the ladies.
I'm not tagging anyone else. I'm like the guy at the wedding who will do the chicken dance, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pull people out of their chairs to join.
Then I sat and I pondered. Being a remarkably (remarkably!) intelligent person, I almost immediately said, "Oh sh!t. I bet that NavieA-B tagged me in that long, rambling, and difficult to read because of the bizarre jumble of font sizes, colors, and even languages post that I didn't make it all the way through before giving up."
So I went back and tried to read it again, but still to no avail. So I scanned to the end, and sure enough, she tagged me. Now, much like The JohnnyB, I'm not a "participator". Not unless there's something in it for me. But, since NavieA-B is one of my better customers, I'll play along a little.
The rules as they are stated by NavieA-B:
- Find the nearest book.
- Name the book and the author.
- Turn to page 123.
- Go to the fifth sentence on the page.
- Copy out the next three sentences and post to your blog.
- Tag three more folks.
Her font color. Not mine.
OK, so here goes:
"Official Bartender's and Party Guide" by Mr. Boston. (One of my favorite authors, I might add.)
1 dash Bitters
Mix with cracked ice and pour, with ice, into chilled parfait or hurricane glass with a salted rim. Garnish with a lemon wheel.
Page 123 happens to be in a chapter called, simply enough, "Tequila." Not one of my favorite chapters, but it is a favorite of the ladies.
I'm not tagging anyone else. I'm like the guy at the wedding who will do the chicken dance, but I'll be damned if I'm going to pull people out of their chairs to join.
Day 2 of 17 - About Last Night
For those fans who have been anxiously awaiting a new post, I apologize for the delay. I wrote a brief little thing yesterday, but for some reason blogger kept giving me an error when I tried to post it. It finally cleared up this morning and posted.
Yesterday was a busy day. I spent all of my free time (which was about 20 minutes) working on describing some things I had done for work at my past job. When you change jobs within The Company in the middle of the year, there is a lot of paperwork towards the end when you have to account for everything.
We took The Childrens out for a sushi lunch in Old Town and then to see Santa yesterday. HannieC was very worried. She said that she really had not been good enough this year to get a good toy from Santa (a bug catching kit that she wants) and was worried that he might call her out on that. But, you know Santa, always want to keep you guessing. MaxieC for the first time told Santa what he wanted, but he refused to sit next to Santa. Maybe next year.
El Torito's party was pretty OK. It started out a little slowly, as the keg had a bit of a foaming issue, but then MoustachioP's son figured out the trick and got the brew flowing. I, uh, broke my diet a little bit and had some snacks. Quite a substantial amount, perhaps.
El Torito is one of those sad stories - people used to depend on him to have parties all the time, and that lifestyle suited him well. Then he got married, and as happens to all men, marriage drove all the fun right out of him. Well, last night he put on a bit of a performance to show that the old El Torito is still alive in there somewhere, just crying to get out. I was a joy to behold.
Me, on the other hand, I don't even know who I am anymore. I had a couple beers and a couple bourbons, and then I drank Pepsi the rest of the night. This was because I had no other way home than to drive myself. There were all these happy, drunken people doing shots of tequila, and when that was gone, Captain Morgan (ack), and I was sipping my Pepsi and chowing down all the appetizers.
At the end of the night (~1:30am), there are eight of us left. Five are staggeringly drunk (well, hard to say if MoodyT was staggeringly drunk as he had to sit down about a half-hour before that and hadn't moved much since then) and three are stone-cold sober. And Me, CherkyB, I'm one of the sober ones, and I'm driving a drunk guy home.
I don't think anything like this has ever happened to me before.
I gotta tell you, though, I still enjoyed standing around in a room full of drunken co-workers. And I had a hell of a lot of fun with CJ's digital SLR. I got a tremendous photo of El Torito in a drunken whoop that I think we're going to have to blow up into a poster. CJ better not delete that.
Now for the best part, HannieC has had a cold for the last few days, and she's been trying to hand it off to me. When I got home around 2:15am, I went up to the bedroom and got into my nightime attire. I noted MaxieC was in my spot on the bed. But my nose was running something fierce. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I went downstairs to the bathroom to blow my nose so as to not wake The Mrs. or MaxieC. I then went to the kitchen and mixed myself of a glass of Emergen-C, which is something StinkyJ swears by for combating colds and with which I had some marginally good luck over the Thanksgiving fiasco.
Yesterday was a busy day. I spent all of my free time (which was about 20 minutes) working on describing some things I had done for work at my past job. When you change jobs within The Company in the middle of the year, there is a lot of paperwork towards the end when you have to account for everything.
We took The Childrens out for a sushi lunch in Old Town and then to see Santa yesterday. HannieC was very worried. She said that she really had not been good enough this year to get a good toy from Santa (a bug catching kit that she wants) and was worried that he might call her out on that. But, you know Santa, always want to keep you guessing. MaxieC for the first time told Santa what he wanted, but he refused to sit next to Santa. Maybe next year.
El Torito's party was pretty OK. It started out a little slowly, as the keg had a bit of a foaming issue, but then MoustachioP's son figured out the trick and got the brew flowing. I, uh, broke my diet a little bit and had some snacks. Quite a substantial amount, perhaps.
El Torito is one of those sad stories - people used to depend on him to have parties all the time, and that lifestyle suited him well. Then he got married, and as happens to all men, marriage drove all the fun right out of him. Well, last night he put on a bit of a performance to show that the old El Torito is still alive in there somewhere, just crying to get out. I was a joy to behold.
Me, on the other hand, I don't even know who I am anymore. I had a couple beers and a couple bourbons, and then I drank Pepsi the rest of the night. This was because I had no other way home than to drive myself. There were all these happy, drunken people doing shots of tequila, and when that was gone, Captain Morgan (ack), and I was sipping my Pepsi and chowing down all the appetizers.
At the end of the night (~1:30am), there are eight of us left. Five are staggeringly drunk (well, hard to say if MoodyT was staggeringly drunk as he had to sit down about a half-hour before that and hadn't moved much since then) and three are stone-cold sober. And Me, CherkyB, I'm one of the sober ones, and I'm driving a drunk guy home.
I don't think anything like this has ever happened to me before.
I gotta tell you, though, I still enjoyed standing around in a room full of drunken co-workers. And I had a hell of a lot of fun with CJ's digital SLR. I got a tremendous photo of El Torito in a drunken whoop that I think we're going to have to blow up into a poster. CJ better not delete that.
Now for the best part, HannieC has had a cold for the last few days, and she's been trying to hand it off to me. When I got home around 2:15am, I went up to the bedroom and got into my nightime attire. I noted MaxieC was in my spot on the bed. But my nose was running something fierce. So, out of the goodness of my heart, I went downstairs to the bathroom to blow my nose so as to not wake The Mrs. or MaxieC. I then went to the kitchen and mixed myself of a glass of Emergen-C, which is something StinkyJ swears by for combating colds and with which I had some marginally good luck over the Thanksgiving fiasco.
After I drink that, I head back upstairs. The Mrs. is standing at the top of the steps with her arms crossed across her chest. It goes like this:So there you have it. No good deed goes unpunished.
The Mrs.: You drove home like this?
Me, CherkyB: Like what?
The Mrs.: Like this!
Me, CherkyB: Like what? With a runny nose?
The Mrs.: Needing to drink a big glass of water before going to bed so you don't get a hangover!
Day 1 of 17.
All is calm. We had sushi for lunch. Nobody has barfed thus far. Off to a birthday party for El Torito shortly.
More to follow.
More to follow.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
A new blog of the week
After a great run of approximately 3 weeks as Blog of the Week, one of the longest periods a single blog has held on to Blog of the Week title in Me, CherkyB history, Rhonda's Blog is now passing the coveted crown to another upstart on the scene, Cavagnaro Blogger. That's right, folks, the hinted at blog by Cavitation now has enough posts to be able to be linked to. Originally conceived as a lazier replacement for the family website, it has morphed into a forum for his unique form of moaning, bitching, and complaining. Plus the occasional pink-shirt fun poking.
So everyone head right over there, and make sure you leave a tag saying CherkyB sent you, as Cavitation bribed me with a bottle of Dave's Insanity Salsa to become Blog of the Week, and I want him to know he's getting his money's-worth. Though with my crowd of readers, it'll take months of referrals for him to make $4.99 in AdSense clicks. However, I do have a lot of surreptitious readers from work (including possibly my boss's boss, JoeyB), so this plug will no doubt return a tremendous amount when it comes time to solicit the bizarrely-named "360 feedback" for the annual performance review. See, already it's paid off.
Now, let me level set you ahead of time. Cavitation is new to blogging, so his blog is a little rough, and his style is still developing. But I want you to all go back and look at your first posts before you cast the first stone. Hell, I deleted my first post after a couple days since it was so bad. So head over there and leave some encouraging words. And make sure you say you heard about it here, or I don't get my cut of the ad revenue.
So everyone head right over there, and make sure you leave a tag saying CherkyB sent you, as Cavitation bribed me with a bottle of Dave's Insanity Salsa to become Blog of the Week, and I want him to know he's getting his money's-worth. Though with my crowd of readers, it'll take months of referrals for him to make $4.99 in AdSense clicks. However, I do have a lot of surreptitious readers from work (including possibly my boss's boss, JoeyB), so this plug will no doubt return a tremendous amount when it comes time to solicit the bizarrely-named "360 feedback" for the annual performance review. See, already it's paid off.
Now, let me level set you ahead of time. Cavitation is new to blogging, so his blog is a little rough, and his style is still developing. But I want you to all go back and look at your first posts before you cast the first stone. Hell, I deleted my first post after a couple days since it was so bad. So head over there and leave some encouraging words. And make sure you say you heard about it here, or I don't get my cut of the ad revenue.
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Something Not to Do ™ 5
Let's say, purely hypothetically, that you had gone to Target to buy a new scale. But, being a man and all, you let it sit in the bag in the hallway while you started preparing to hang Christmas lights outside. This because you had to hang the Christmas lights during the daytime so you could see what you were doing, whereas you could open the scale box anytime due to the magic (magic!) of indoor lighting. But also because a new scale isn't all that exciting. It's not like a new lawn tractor, or a new 18V lithium-ion drill, or even like a new 6-pack of beer. It's just a scale.
But, you live with a woman. To a woman, a new scale is as exciting as diamond pendant earrings, or a surprise getaway to Paris, or an unopened pint of Häagen-Daz and a pair of sweat pants. That is to say, it is simply irresistible.
So, let's say, again purely hypothetically, your The Mrs. tears into the box with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for Christmas morning little blue boxes with red ribbons that say "Tiffany & Co." and sets up the scale in the downstairs bathroom. When you come wandering by, she is standing on the floor staring at the scale. She says, "It seems a little low."
You step on, note that it is exactly what you though you weighed, and step off. Then you say to your The Mrs., "Hmmm...You get on it again."
So she does.
Then you look at it and say, "Yup. You're right. It does read low."
That would be Something Not to Do. ™
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But, you live with a woman. To a woman, a new scale is as exciting as diamond pendant earrings, or a surprise getaway to Paris, or an unopened pint of Häagen-Daz and a pair of sweat pants. That is to say, it is simply irresistible.
So, let's say, again purely hypothetically, your The Mrs. tears into the box with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for Christmas morning little blue boxes with red ribbons that say "Tiffany & Co." and sets up the scale in the downstairs bathroom. When you come wandering by, she is standing on the floor staring at the scale. She says, "It seems a little low."
You step on, note that it is exactly what you though you weighed, and step off. Then you say to your The Mrs., "Hmmm...You get on it again."
So she does.
Then you look at it and say, "Yup. You're right. It does read low."
That would be Something Not to Do. ™
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Monday, December 11, 2006
Ooo-ooo that smell
It seems like, after having stepped in it, I am recovering nicely. Perhaps this is because I have so much experience with stepping in the poo, as The Mrs. so kindly points out in the comments. Perhaps it is my cat-like ability to always land on my feet. I'm not sure what it is. But, clearly, I am better than you.
I do, however, need to replace my water heater. That wouldn't be such a big deal, excepting I have one of those Brilliant! idea things whereby the hot water heater and furnace are combined into one unit. A design so bad that the manufacturer offers incentives to rip it out and replace it rather than to fix it all the time (and risk a big lawsuit over what a piece of crap it is). I'm debating whether I should rip it out now, in the dead of winter, or try to make it until spring and have it die on my in mid-deep-freeze-February. What is wrong with it this time (three things in total) I could get the home warranty to fix for $55 maybe. Maybe I can do that an wait until spring.
A couple very strange things happened today. Very strange indeed. First, one of the managers at work today accused me of exuding leadership. His exact words: "You exude leadership."
I'm telling you, the altitude affects your mind around here.
Then, at dinner, The Mrs. said that my last couple posts included a bizarre number of inaccuracies. In particular, she disagreed with the transcription of her telephone discussion with her mother about MaxieC blowing the saxophone-whistle in my ear. She claimed some of the dialog she actually said to MaxieC, not to her mother. I complained that I did a pretty good transcription given the fact that I was asleep at the time, but I offered to post one of my infrequent corrections posts nonetheless, since I certify truthfulness of my stories.
Oddly, if you read that post and the first comment, it seems remarkably appropriate.
The Mrs., however, has not yet given me the details of how she wants the correction to read. You will all have to wait with bated breath, as do I.
I did, however, maintain my rapier wit when challenged by The Mrs. I said, "This is because I haven't been drunk when posting the last couple days. I've cut way back. I don't need the empty calories."
Heh.
My diet is coming along nicely. I have lost no weight at all thus far, so I wouldn't call it a complete success. But I don't feel as fat. That makes it a limited success so far.
That is all.
I do, however, need to replace my water heater. That wouldn't be such a big deal, excepting I have one of those Brilliant! idea things whereby the hot water heater and furnace are combined into one unit. A design so bad that the manufacturer offers incentives to rip it out and replace it rather than to fix it all the time (and risk a big lawsuit over what a piece of crap it is). I'm debating whether I should rip it out now, in the dead of winter, or try to make it until spring and have it die on my in mid-deep-freeze-February. What is wrong with it this time (three things in total) I could get the home warranty to fix for $55 maybe. Maybe I can do that an wait until spring.
A couple very strange things happened today. Very strange indeed. First, one of the managers at work today accused me of exuding leadership. His exact words: "You exude leadership."
I'm telling you, the altitude affects your mind around here.
Then, at dinner, The Mrs. said that my last couple posts included a bizarre number of inaccuracies. In particular, she disagreed with the transcription of her telephone discussion with her mother about MaxieC blowing the saxophone-whistle in my ear. She claimed some of the dialog she actually said to MaxieC, not to her mother. I complained that I did a pretty good transcription given the fact that I was asleep at the time, but I offered to post one of my infrequent corrections posts nonetheless, since I certify truthfulness of my stories.
Oddly, if you read that post and the first comment, it seems remarkably appropriate.
The Mrs., however, has not yet given me the details of how she wants the correction to read. You will all have to wait with bated breath, as do I.
I did, however, maintain my rapier wit when challenged by The Mrs. I said, "This is because I haven't been drunk when posting the last couple days. I've cut way back. I don't need the empty calories."
Heh.
My diet is coming along nicely. I have lost no weight at all thus far, so I wouldn't call it a complete success. But I don't feel as fat. That makes it a limited success so far.
That is all.
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