Marriage is Fucking Hard. A Sonnet.

When I was in college, I got to go to Cuba. It was very cool, and I'll brag about it any chance I get.  Just ask me. Or don't. I'll probably find an excuse to bring it up. 

Anyway, this was in the early 2000's (when it was actually a big deal to go to Cuba, so I'm a baller, you got that memo, RIGHT?). One of the professors who accompanied us was a very large hippie who got me drunk on the beach (good) on Cuban wine (bad). We talked about life and love and marriage. I was about to get married later that year, and he had been with "his partner" for 20 years. It later came out that he was totally a legally married heterosexual...but he and his wife deliberately chose to refer to each other as 'partners' and always had. They also sat down monthly to decide whether they were still "in" or not. This was with kids and a mortgage and jobs and all the other stuff of life. 

At the time, I thought he was an idiot. It was so....unromantic? Precariously committed? It seemed unwise to assign such a tenuous hold on something so important. 

But now I get it. It's a constant, this renewal of committment. The vows mean almost nothing if you don't continually update them. 

And it's hard. It's fucking hard. 

While we were basking in vacation mode in Puerto Rico a few long weeks ago, my 'partner' and I talked about all the life stuff that has happened over the past few years: many, many job changes and career re-focuses, money issues, sex issues, house issues, future planning issues, children arriving on the scene, personal evolution issues, body issues....we'd share more with you, but you'll have to buy us drinks first (not Cuban wine). 

Anyway.....I wrote a poem, with his permission and guidance: 

Marriage is Fucking Hard

It's finding out you're selfish.
It's being told you're not always right.
It's finally, eventually accepting you're not always right.
It's learning how to tell someone else they're breaking or broken.
It's using your big, scary, honest words.
It's finding out things about yourself you didn't want to know.
It's dealing with the flaws you came in with, and then acquiring more, and dealing with those. Damn.
It's constantly trying to re-define normal and acceptable.
It's someone else seeing all your pink parts.
It's feeling so vulnerable and afraid.
It's surviving life, which is hard enough, and then having to help someone else survive theirs. 
It's trying to keep your expectations transparent and fair. 

It's figuring out what "fair" is. 
It's a slumber party every night with giggles, and also possibly intercourse.
It's sharing, SO much sharing.
It's having to be really brave and stronger than you are.
It's sometimes being more committed to the cause than to the person.
It's talking about all of this scary, scary stuff. 
It's co-managing the hard stuff of life: money, kids, sex, stuff, aging, family, future.
It's having to figure out your own shit and help them figure out theirs. 
It's realizing you're the only one really responsible for your happiness.
It's forgiving.
It's forgiving some more.
It's finding patience and grace when you'd rather throw a shoe.
It's realizing when you're closed off.
It's prying yourself back open. Again.
It's falling in and out of love over and over, all with the same person.

It's exhausting. 
It's taking a victory lap together every time you make it another year or another season. 
It's keeping perspective on the hard times measured against the rest.
It's laughing a lot.

It's figuring out parenting. That's a whole other list. 
It's new items on this list every day because we keep changing.

It's changing together, apart, next to each other, in each others vicinity. 
It's talking and talking and talking and talking. 

It's hard. It's fucking hard. 

It's accepting that it's hard and doing it anyway. 

It's being glad that you did.

 

Brave Nerds, That's Who I Want to Raise/Be.

These people who live in our house with us are just all the fun and sweet and ridiculous right now. We are LOVING these ages- 2ish and 5ish. 

We're almost officially out of the baby phase. No regrets, no remorse. We love the thems they are right now. They were cute and round as babies, and now they're cool and less round, and have the words. It's good. 

(Plus, some of my favorite people are still reproducing or planning to reproduce, so we'll be *literally* dripping in babies for a few more years. Huzzah!)

Henry memorizes lyrics from songs and lines from movies and drops them on us in the middle of conversations, without any explanation or preamble. It's jarring, but fantastically funny. He sings all the time. He plays pretend. He likes time alone in his bedroom now, where he "organizes" his stuff and plays imagination games where spiders eat Batman and such. I never understand the rules and am often dismissed. He loves to follow the "constructions" and build things out of LEGOs. Last night we built a toaster with a handle that actually moves. It's pretty bitchin'. 

He rumbles (a little too much) with his school friends, but is also sweet and sensitive with his sister. He loves to read. He is eating up Roald Dahl books right now. We've finished "Witches" and "Fantastic Mr. Fox" and are working on "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" right now. He watched, and paid attention to, the entirety of the movie "The Princess Bride" last night. Do you realize what this development in his comprehension, bravery, and concentration means? Do you? DO YOU??  That's right folks, I think we can start Harry Potter soon. If I have it my way, he'll be begging for a lightening bolt scar and broom flying lessons by summer's end. 

Please let him be a nerd. Please let him be a nerd. (And also brave)

Anna is still pretty "spirited." I kind of hate that word because it's usually applied to women who speak out of turn or colts. 

Here I mean that she is determined, loud, mischevious, adventure-seeking, and stubborn. She's also funny, sweet, silly, passionate, and very, very verbal.  She suddenly erupted in language and uses complete sentences for most of her thoughts. She's actually quite proper about everything. She answers "YES" to questions, instead of sloppy talk like I do, with "yeah" "sure" "hmmmm." This morning Robb asked her, "do you want some more waffle" and she responded, "NO. I DON'T THINK SO." Eesh. We better step up our game and get more formal to keep up with her. Maybe we should get out the good china we don't own or all wear white gloves while we drink tea. (Tea. We have the tea. We could do that part of that whole vision.) 

Still, not much scares her. Most little kids hate those really loud, turbo hand-driers in public bathrooms. She loves them. She gets her face and hands right under it and isn't bothered at all that the force of the thing tries to knock her over and makes her skin try to wiggle of its bones. 

Please let her be brave. Please let her be brave. (And also a nerd).

Feeling thankful. Glad to be home from vacation  (finally, sigh, I guess) so we don't have to miss any more of their antics. 

The Seven Reasons Why Life Off the Islands Is Very, Very Stupid.

1. Ugh. 

2. The coffee is the worst on the mainland. 

3. The people don't smile as much at me, and they expect me to do thinks like work. And parent.

4. My money actually acts like money here on the mainland, instead of magic paper passes. 

5. If you drink 5 shots of rum on the mainland, you're not doing a "tasting menu" you're doing an "alcoholism."

6. On the island, we were sexy, adenture-seeking and so, so in love. On the mainland, we are sore and tired from all our adventuring, falling into a drool sleep at 8pm with our youngins, and mad at each other about dumb stuff like breakfast smoothies or toilet paper. 

7. It's great to see our kids, but it turns out they still expect to be fed and shit. Ugh. 

Our last two days of vaca involved the beach and restaurants and Old San Juan, visiting the forts, and doing coffee and rum tastings. We felt like eating a couple meals and doing, like, one additional activity was almost too much pressure to put on a single day. We spent a lot of time in blissful silence. We pushed our plump white bellies toward the sunlight and absorbed all the Vitamin D. 

And now we're home. It really is super to see the kids, but being on "island time" and in "island zen head space" doesn't work so great when I have patients to see, surgeries to help with, and kids to keep well fed and groomed.

El sigh. 

 

Puerto Rico, Day 2: Rainforest Mountain, Night Kayaking, Breaking into Swanky Resorts, and Destroying the Zen

Day 2, Puerto Rico: el Yunque National Forest and Fajardo bioluminescent bay.  

This was the day we had the most planned. When we're traveling just the two of us, we like to keep our days pretty loose and unplanned because it's opposite of normal life. We also have a rule that if we go one way into something and there's an alternative way out, we have to try it. We have a "just say yes" policy, since, again, in real life, it feels like we're constantly saying no. Ask our kids, they would agree. (BTW if you're wondering where our kids are- they are with their extremely capable and fun grandparents back home, having a marvelous time). 

So, the first thing we did after we ate the best oatmeal we've ever had at that cool bakery I described in the last post, was drive to the glorious, breathtaking el Yunque National Forest. 

I'm a sucker for mountains because I don't have any where I live. And this one is covered in rainforest, so it's pretty much the most best thing I've ever seen. 

Here, we saw BOTH tropical flora AND fauna.  The individual leaves on the trees are larger than my head (see?) and we saw lizards (iguanas are the road kill here, and hang in all the trees) and all kinds of birds. 

We accidentally sort of GPS'd our way to the back entrance of the park and then discretely (not actually) jumped into a guided tour that was going up an unmarked trail. The trail was steep and not well groomed, so we straight-up climbed up the side of a rainforest mountian to go play in waterfalls. We were pretty high up, shocked by the beauty, when we could see an even steeper, higher falls. "I WANT TO GO TO THERE" I said, and so we did. We both felt like we'd really accomplished something after all this. It was exciting, and hard work. 

Later, we found the big path that the tourists are SUPPOSED to take. It's paved and leads to a giant waterfall with about 300 people sharing the same cold pool at the bottom. We felt pretty awesome. 

Then we dranks fresh coconut water straight out of the fresh fruits, opened by some dude with a machete. 

So, then I had to pee a crazy lot and it was late afternoon and we hadn't eaten since early breakfast, and we'd burned, maybe 10 million calories climbing a freaking mountain (did you hear I climbed a mountain?), so we had to get somewhere fast to pee and eat. The first place we found was the fanciest of all the gigantic resorts, where all the fancy tourists stay. They reluctantly let us in, because we're pretty clearly hoi polloi. 

To say it was posh is a gross understatement. I've never had the pleasure of urinating in a nicer latrine. Then we sat on a deck overlooking the pool that overlooked the ocean. You see, these tourists are SO fancy, they need to contain their fancy in a pool that is merely ocean-adjacent. They wouldn't want to get fish butt on their swanky swimsuits. That's my theory and I'm pretty sure it's right. We sat on the deck and ate and drank and fancy laughed and felt just like that scene in 'Pretty Woman' where she and her fellow prostitute eat brunch at the country club in high-wasted shorts and big hats. I actually had a(nother) cup of coffee at the end of fancy lunch so that I could ensure that I would need to poo in the fancy latrine before we left the property. 

And it was everything I'd hoped for. 

Then we headed to the little fishing town where the bioluminescent bay is. Once it was properly dark and late, we set out with our tour group in tandem kayaks to find the glowing plankton. The guides were very knowledgeable and educated us on this rare freak thing of nature. It's something about the mangrove trees and chemistry and dinoflagellates. 

Well, it turns out the alge took over and the moon was too bright and the plankton were shy or whatever, so we barely saw any glowing plankton in the water. BUT(!!!) it was still one of the most thrilling experiences of my life, kayaking with Robb, a mile through a pitch black mangrove tree-lined channel. It was terrifying. It was SO dark, that the two-way traffic through this natural tunnel was downright dangerous. 

For the second time that day, we felt like we'd Indiana Jones(d). It was really fun and exciting and something I'm so glad we shared. And did you catch the part about how we did a tandem kayak and no one died or divorced? That's an island miracle. 

Then we dragged our exhausted butts back to San Juan to the hotel and I fell up these stairs here. I wasn't injured or anything, but it's a sophisticated 'floating staircase' so I definitely dropped my shoe into the koi pond below and Robb had to rescue it for me by balancing out on the feng shui ledge. 

He's pretty much my hero this trip. He planned this whole thing and it's been spectacular, perfect. He also saved some koi from certain death. He's like Batman. 

Day 3 includes beach and the forts of Old San Juan. Stay tuned or whatever.

Puerto Rico, Day 1: La Isla del Encanto.....I Encanto You, Too, Boo Boo.

Well, we're 4 days into our 5 day grown-up only trip to Puerto Rico. It's "La Isla del Encanto" which means the island of love....or charm...or shoelaces? Our Spanish has not actually improved at all during our visit. 

So, travel log, Day 1: (Is that how you spell 'travel log? Is it logue? This brings up images of a log on an adventure and that could be hilarious. A little hat? I digress. I don't know how to say that in Spanish).

Have I mentioned that I'm about 6" deep in rum right now? So, my apologies if this sense no make. 

We're staying in this really hip, modern hotel with gorgeous architecture, in a cool neighborhood near the beach, in San Juan, PR. 

They have an agreement with a local bakery/deli for free breakfast for their guests. It's delicious and fun, and it turns out that a while back, President Obama ate there while visiting San Juan. There are posters all over the restaurant of a pic of him paying for a croissant, and we actually sat at the VERY TABLE where he ate. It prompted discussions on whether we should ever wash our elbows again, after they grazed that sacred tabletop, and also about how surprised we are that he actually pays for stuff when he's out and about. Like, if I were a deli owner and el Jefe came to visit my shop, there'd be a sandwich on the house, you know what I mean? On the other hand, it's roundly agreed that the US government 30 way fucks the PR people, so maybe he can buy his own damn pastry. Probably wise he doesn't take freebies from one of our poorest territories. Good policy. He's smart. And handsome. Did I mention the rum? 

Anyway. All the food there is delicious, enhanced by the Obama thing, and there and elsewhere, I'm drinking as much Cafe Negro as a can get in me. 

ANYWAY again, what is Puerto Rico like? It's robust with flora. That sounds smarmy to say, and it's meant to, since I'm travel logging. I'll say it again: It's robust with flora. It looks like Jurassic Park island except we've yet to have a goat part hit our windshield

Everyone has been really friendly and speaks waaaaay better English than I do Spanish. Considering how bad the economy is, I expected more severe signs of poverty, but at least where we are, things seem OK. Sometimes it's hard to tell in warm climates just how much a people are struggling, since you can get by with so much less structure on your house than you can up north. 

There are a lot of boarded up buildings, but there are also a lot of thriving restaurants, bars, stores, coffee shops. Frankly, that kind of feels like home. 

People described PR as Florida-like, especially Miami. It's definitely more same than different- there are Walgreens on every corner, KFC, Big K, even Dress Barns. We've noted the following differences: Spanish first, then English; kilometers vs miles; more churches; fewer exclusively rich areas (dude on a horse, looking like a farmer, definitely not a cop, just sort of strolling near a swanky resort); more pro wrestling in a barn along the highway; very few street markings; a more casual attitude about drinking and driving; no real rules about where you can park your car- if it's a big enough hole and you won't lose it over the side of a mountain, yer good. 

Have I mentioned the weather yet? It's a perfect, sunny, breezy low '80s all the time. It practically smells like freshly baked cookies here, it's that good. 

The food is great. We're doing completely fine eating vegan(ish). Mofongo is one of the coolest local dishes we've found. It's either plantains or yuca fried and then mashed into a ball or a bowl and topped with veggies/meat. There's fresh fruit and beans and rice and cool salads everywhere. The seafood is to die for (when I'm feeling less vegan-ish). Every single restaurant offers "THE BEST" rum cocktail, so I have to try them all to be polite and for science. ("You did it! Congratulations.") Also champage sangria is pretty brilliant and again with the coffee. Ave Maria, that coffee. 

So....day 1 we got here mid-afternoon and checked out the beach and ate great food. Then we fell asleep at 9pm watching the new season of "Kimmy Schmidt" because you can bring a little piece of home with you anywhere you are. 

I'll talk about Day 2 next. It contains action! Adventure!! And coffee. 

What Love Looks Like

I've been devouring the 2nd season of the Amazon Prime original series, 'Catastrophe.' 

It's an absolute revelation. I've never heard dialogue more accurate to how real relationships actually sound...or, at least, my relationship. These characters in the central relationship, they, too, express their adoration with brutal honesty, sarcasm, and kind of mean teasing. It's my love language, so I appreciate it immensely. (If you read my posts and sometimes feel bad for my poor husband, don't. It's character building. No, I'm just kidding. He could probably use a hug). 

The first season of 'Catastrophe' focused on them meeting cute with their genitals and accidentally making a baby. It's not part of their plan. He was meant to be transcontinental only briefly for work, but they're both in their late 30's and find that they really make each other laugh and decide to give it a go there in London. What's so surprising about this show is how vividly they express their doubts and disgruntlemnents (that's a word. Shut up. Are YOU writing this?) with each other. They don't let things pass. They don't polite with one another- they express all that's on their hearts and minds. 

It all ends up seeming loving instead of like an inability to pick battles because they genuinely like each other and this openness is shared vulnerability, a rawness with which they trust each other. They play zero games. They expect so much of each other, there is only absolute truth between them. And their humor keeps them afloat. They laugh a lot. Even when things are bloody awful. 

In this second season, we find that the baby that came from their early romancing was born extremely premature and that they almost lost both him and their marriage in those first few scary months of his life. Now, we're 2 years later and they've gone on to have a second child and are now dealing with life with two small kids (the first still with some effects of prematurity, and still the grief and terror of that ordeal hanging around their heads). Also, they'r adjusting to life with her staying home from her teaching job (this is England. She is EXPECTED to stay home for 52 whole weeks and looked at like a freak by her fellow teachers and the principle of her school when she tries to come back AT 16 WEEKS. BECAUSE HOW COULD SOMEONE WHO IS STILL EXCLUSIVELY BREAST FEEDING AND CARING FOR A TINY INFANT POSSIBLY BE EXPECTED TO RETURN TO--- never mind. Don't get me started. Fuck everything). 

Ahem. Sorry about that. As I was saying, they're dealing with stress of babies, the total fall-off of per postpartum libido but his stubbornly unchanged one, the way to accommodate friendship and other family into their busy lives....it's so fascinating. (Included in their family is Carrie Fisher, playing the world's most craziest mother-in-law like an absolute boss). 

The stuff that they go through, the way that they talk about it...it makes me sweat and look around all shifty-eyed while I'm watching because I'm CERTAIN someone has cameras in our bedroom. This is too accurate. Too close to home. 

Hahahahaha. That's me awkwardly laughing. Hahahaha. Ha. 

So, yeah. Basically, watch this show if you want to see what it would be like being married to me, and then after you finish, again, hug my husband because he is a poor, poor bastard. 

I'm a Chick and I Really Like Star Wars. Does That Make it a Chick Flick?

I had the opportunity to see two empowerng pieces of art this weekend. They got me thinking. (A terrible past time/I know). 

We re-watched 'Star Wars: The Force Awakens.' This time, in 3-d (this technologically must be getting better, right? I wanted to hurl none times while viewing) and this time, we watched it with Henry. 

I saw it differently, with my 4 year-old sitting next to me. I noticed and was grateful for the fact that the most kick assy-est of all the leads is a girl ('Rey', Daisy Ridley). She has super Jedi powers, natural gifts and incredible resourcefulness she's taught herself. She also has a highly developed sense of empathy and expresses her emotions well. She's covered in clothes the whole time that are believably functional. She cries when it's appropriate to feel big feels. She is someone to look up to and admire. Also, Leia is now a General, in charge of the resistance. Bad. Ass.  

(We've been trying hard to find powerful female voices/characters because Henry keeps saying nail-on-chalkboard stuff like "girl music is pretty, boy music is cool." So I'm excited for this Rey part). 

The male lead ('Finn', John Boyega) making the largest change, the most brave, revolutionary move, is an African American....err...I'm told he's British. Nice American accent. So, anyway, he's whatever the English version of African American is. 😁

As far as my kids will ever know, it is normal and natural that our heroes are women and people of color. I love that. 

The other exciting thing in this film is the friendships. Rey and Finn have a mutual, respectful relationship with no hint (yet?) of romance, which is also refreshing in an adventure film setting. And Finn and a male pilot have a genuinely open, loving male friendship.

Again, I'm excited for this new normal in film my kids get to see. 

And then. AND THEN, my fantastic dad and I went to this very cool new musical called 'If/Then.' It got great reviews/Tony nominations while on Broadway, and is now touring. It's modern and hip and the lead is a female in her late 30's.....did you hear that? The main subject is female in her late 30's!! And she's not a princess or queen or murderess or anything. She's a PhD city planner who's recently gone through a divorce. 

It's an ambitious play, simultaneously tracking her life as it diverges in two directions, based on small decisions she makes (answering a phone call/going to a function with one friend vs another, etc). It's all about how our actions are all consequential....and the waves ("the butterfly effect") that ripple off from these decisions. It was remarkably well done and complicated, but easy and pleasurable to consume...and it was about a smart and powerful woman who made decisions about and with her male colleagues and love interests but not FOR them....it featured realistic themes of career, ambition, companionship, fertility and unwanted pregnancy, friendship and sense of self. In a non-cheesy way, after it put her (and us) through the emotional ringer, it spoke to not regretting your choices that led you to where you are, but also to not assuming where you are is where you need to stay. Reinvent, reinvigorate, forgive, strengthen, embolden, move on. 

It was cool. 

So, yeah. If pop culture represents where we are or where we're aiming to go in society, I'm optimistic today. 

I want to be part of it. I want to write cool females into stories and movies and jokes.

The material that is increasingly available in mainstream pop culture, that features strong and real women and people of color inspire me and give me hope for how my children will be taught the world works. It also makes me want to be part of the change. Maybe I should dust off my screenplay about three smart, funny women. Maybe I should finish my novel about two smart, funny women. Maybe I should finish my two-woman comedy show. 

There seems to be a pattern here. 

Anyway. Art. Rhymes with fart. Women do both. Deal with it, world. 

(Robb says I never know how to wrap up my posts. I just can't disagree more. I think I really nailed this one). 

Guest Post from Saddest Yoga Mat in the World.

Ah, heeeeell no. 

What. An. Asshole. 

She drove me all the way to the yoga studio....rather, the parking lot OUTSIDE the yoga studio. Then whined about not having enough quarters for the meter until she *unfortunately* was unable to find a parking spot close enough to the building that wouldn't require she burn too many precious calories to get all the way inside. I'm surprised she doesn't insist on using one of those fancy old people chair lifts to get up the single flight of stairs to get into the studio on those rare days she does actually make it to the door. 

Why did she even bother putting on her raggedy sports bra in the first place? All, "OK, husband. I'm leaving to go exercise now. Here I go! Bye, family!"

Such a load of horseshit and we all knew it. He smiled an encouraging smile, but he knew. She said something intolerable about finding her Monday zen, but she knew. Even the children knew and tried to hide their cookies for when she got back from her expedition of shame. 

I hate everything. 

Sincerely-

Saddest yoga mat in the world

Pink Is Just a Color. A Bitchin' Awesome Color.

Lately, Anna is making herself into a pink everything. 'I'M A PINK CAT.' 'I'M A PINK REINDEER.' A few days ago she was a 'PINK ZOMBIE' and today, when she was talking about saving someone and I told her she was a hero, she said, 'YES. I'M A PINK HERO.' 

I know she's only two. She'll change persona's and preferences a zillion times, but for now, she's into frilly things. Her favorite book is "Fancy Nancy" and favorite movie is "The Little Mermaid." She always chooses the shiniest, sequinny pink option for clothes, shoes, hair accessories, toys, and books. 

She also is bold and brave and kicks ass/takes names. Not only is she not afraid of getting dirty, but she seems to consider it a wasted day if she hasn't, at some point, jumped hard in a mud puddle and handled something squished into the cement. (Was the thing alive at some point? Yes, I really think it was. Did she throw it down and then just go right back to eating out of her bag of pretzels? Yes, she sure did). 

Initially I cringed at the gender dynamics of the pink/blue thing and tried to avoid them both. I thought that I'd hate having a frilly girly girl....BUUUUUT I've learned that the fact that we deem "girly" to be a negative adjective is probably our own sexist fault. Because girls are cool, so girl-like things should also be cool. Also it's been reinforced for me that being strong and also frilly isn't mutually exclusive. 

It's sort of a relief not to hide from the pink. I love the color pink. Always have. Partially because I'm addicted to the movie 'Steel Magnolias' and actually got to play Shelby in a stage production of the show. So I've said a few (thousand) times that 'pink is my signature color.' (Read it back with a big wig on and in a really thick fake Southern accent and you'll have a picture of what it was like). 

And in medicine, pink is good. Pink is life. Pink is health. Pink tissue has oxygen coming to it and can survive/heal. Also, pink is a color of power and hope. With breast cancer awareness pinkifying the world- it represents solidarity of patients and survivors, and also brings everyone else together to fight against a condition that is (mostly) a women's issue. That's cool. No matter what we think of the NFL. 

I do think spending tons of time and energy on looking pretty is kind of a waste. If that's what we mean by 'girly' I don't much dig it. I don't do a huge amount of primping myself and I won't encourage Anna doing a lot of it, either. My ideal wish for her (and Henry) would be for her to put her energy out into learning and loving and saving the world. 

But if she wants pink sparkly book covers for her Physics books, who am I to stop her? 

Maybe I'll even wear a dress and shave my legs for when I chaperone her high school dance. 

(Maybe I won't even volunteer to chaperone the dance in the first place. That would probably be in her best interest). 

We have this children's book called "Pink is Just a Color, and So is Blue" by Niki Bhatia. It talks about how silly it is to gender sequester a color, and also how both boys and girls can be sensitive, can be tough, can like to play ball, can like to play with dolls, etc. It's cool. 

I bought it for them, but apparently I needed to be reminded, too.