2009: The Obligatory Navel-Gazing Year In Review

Apparently it's part of the Union Rules for Bloggers to do one of these here look-back post thingies. And so I perused my 2009 archives for something to write about or some way to encapsulate everything that happened, and I basically keep coming back to this line from The Princess Bride: "Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up." Ha ha! Get it? Because I never shut up?

Anyway. Originally I asked my husband to poke through my archives for the past year and pick out one post from each month that he thought was pretty good so I can do up a Year-In-Review-Kind-Of-Something, but that did not work out as I had hoped, which is to say AT ALL, so basically you're stuck with this self-edited list of "My Best of 2009" and as you know if you read my blog every day or at all -- I am not very good at the whole self-editing thing.

• January -- 25 Things
• February -- Snowbird
• March -- Three Little Words 
• April -- (tie) Wordless Wednesday: Hallelujah and Just Like Starting Over
• May -- Sweet Caroline 
• June -- (tie) White Hot Spotlight and A River Runs Through It
• July -- Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves 
• August -- Who-ly McWhat? 
• September -- WTF!? Friday: September Already?
• October -- A Very Merry Un-Birthday 
• November -- A Week of Thanks: Day 7 
• December -- Brown Paper Packages Tied Up With Strings 

So. Sorry that I can't count to 12, but I guess you can count those two extra links as "bonus material" on the special edition DVD that was the past year. That's 2009, in a nutshell. Our year didn't suck as much as it did for many other people -- in fact, it was pretty damned good. The adoption was final, we celebrated our 10-year anniversary, and I somehow managed to turn 35 without having myself committed over it. Sure, we had our share of crud, like my husband losing his job and being out of work for 6+ months and the ongoing intermittent bouts of self-doubt, but really, we are luckier than a whole lot of people, because we have each other. And if you don't have each other, what's the point, really?

Coming up in 2010: The First Family Wedding Of The New Decade! More Pictures! A Kind Of Hybrid Project 365 Kind Of Thing If I Ever Get Around To Starting It! Still More Pictures! Possibly A Book Club Which Might End Up Related To My Hybrid Project365 Thing That I Haven't Decided Whether Or Not I'm Going To Start! Even More Pictures! Naps! And Yet More Pictures!

Please stay tuned.

Wordless Wednesday: We Are Family

The Long Kiss Goodbye

I go back to work today after 5 days off, and I wish I could say I was looking forward to it, but that would be a big fat lie and everyone knows it. Sure, I didn't get any rest while I was off, except for that one hard nap I squeezed in late yesterday morning while Shae was at school, but I stand by my assertion that the worst day of vacation is still at least 10x better than the best day of work -- especially if you got spend any of your vacation with my delicious nephew, as I did.

Today my sister goes back to Chicago, and for a few days anyway, I go back to my routine. Of course I have off again on Friday, and that will be a whole different adventure, because if the weather is decent we're off then to Pittsburgh for the weekend, for my cousin's wedding and a visit with another cousin who lives out that way. My sister and brother-in-law and nephew will also be there, hopefully, so the whole gang will be together again. Or most of us, anyway. Some of us.

Still, that is an exception to the rule, and not the way things usually are. It's always hard for me to "turn it back on" once I have to go back to regular life after I have spent time with my nephew and my sister. I'm sad, sort of, but not exactly -- I can't really explain it. Most of the time, we are okay with us being here and her being there, but when we are all together, the distance is sharper, somehow. Every time I have to say goodbye, it gets harder, and I don't know why.

So I think I'm going to stop saying it. No more big production numbers, no more singing "so long, farewell, auf Wiedersehen, good night." It's too much. I don't like it, and I don't want to do it any more. I'm just going to start leaving the room and hope that no one gets offended.

Future MBA's of America

Yesterday during the afternoon doldrums, we had a hard time keeping the Wee Ones entertained -- football just isn't as exciting to them yet as it ought to be, since they don't have their priorities in order. They way the tell the stories, the most important things in life are (1) crackers, (B) naptime, (iii) toys, and (d) annoying Mommy and Daddy, usually in that order. Sometimes they only cycle through the first two or three items on the list before they start over, but when they finally get around to (d) ... boy, howdy.

We had a metric ton of toys with us yesterday: noisemaking Wonder Pets books, tea party sets, plastic play food, plus a full house full of grownups who were more than willing to wrestle on the floor and throw Shae and Joey around and whatnot, but we reached a point where the only things that would keep the kids amused for more than 5 seconds at a time were "small consumer electronics" -- specifically, cell phones. (And I am not ashamed to admit at this point that I kept my iPhone to myself, thankyouverymuch. Mine, mine, mine!)

They already look like tiny little overworked professionals, taking important calls while they try to sneak in a quick bagel or donut for breakfast.

And evidently they have very very important calls to place to their brokers at all hours of the day. Looks like someone is trying to get a good price on Lego stock.

Oh, boy, I recognize these faces, too: you're sitting in the most boring meeting in the world, which immediately follows the previous most boring meeting in the world, and there are deadlines to be met and production issues to be resolved, and then all of the sudden

PFEERRRRRRRRRRRT!

Someone lets out the biggest "farp" ever, and you just can't help yourself -- you need to get on Twitter immediately and let the entire world know all about it. (Oh, come on now, inapporpriate professional farting is never not funny.)

The Year Of Napping Dangerously

Oh my God, these kids. Always laughing and smiling and having fun and driving everyone to fits of actual joy. Can you imagine?

It's getting out of control, really. I mean, I am an OLD WOMAN, and I can't really take that much excitement any more.

But seriously, it's awesome to see Joey and Shae playing together and chasing each other and having a good old time. I worry sometimes that Shae is missing out because it's pretty likely that she won't have any siblings, but then again, it's almost better this way, because Joey is her "best friend" and not inadvertent competition.

It's kind of unfair, though, because when you get the two of them together, the rest of us don't have a chance -- there is just so much cuteness in such a small space. It's overwhelming.

Oh, and speaking of "'Things That Are Overwhelming' for $200, Alex" ... we tried to take a family picture yesterday, since we were all together. Uh, yeah. We actually did end up with three decent shots, which we need to adjust a little, but I also took about 50 test shots that are varying degrees of hilarity. This is one example.

I think this looks like some kind of hysterical performance art. I mean, there are toys, screaming children, random feet ... which means it's pretty typically my family.

Hey Santa!

I don't know when it happened, or how, or why, but somewhere on the space-time continuum, Christmas Day turned into the longest day of the entire year. I can't blame it all on parenthood, either, because I remember feeling likewise in previous years, before Shae came along. But in any event, I still don't like getting up at the asscrack of dawn, not even for a glimpse of one of Shae's early-morning Eraserhead-style hairdos.

(Although you have to admit, that hair is pretty cracktacular.)

As was previously reported, Santa came through and gave Shae her one and only Christmas wish, a new camera. We saved that gift for last, and it went about as well as I had hoped it would.

(Key Quote: "My batteries!")

It's not a bad little camera, really. I mean, it's not 10 googlepictures or whatever the hell my camera is, but do we really need it to be? At the last minute I had some reservations about this particular model, after reading some online reviews, but then I remembered: Shae is 2½. She still thinks "guess what? chicken butt!" is funny. And the statistical likelihood that she's ever going to actually look at these pictures is pretty low. All I want out of any toy is for my kid to enjoy it, and for it to not break after 10 minutes of use. So far, so good -- and the pictures are at least as good as your average cellphone.

Well, some of them are, anyway. Shae took over 200 pictures today (wonder where she learned that?) and I edited the collection down to 62. A lot of the shots were of walls, random hands, unidentifiable heads, and general nothingness. About half of the pictures left are of guys named Joe: either my Uncle Joe -- Shae calls him Uncle Quack -- or of one or the other of my brothers-in-law. She threatened to take pictures of me, but so far she hasn't been able to catch me in the act of much of anything, although we did get the following cute exchange:

But that was totally serendipitous. She wasn't much interested in taking pictures of me, anyway, because I am a big gigantic bore. Most of the day was spent eating, unwrapping presents, eating some more, laughing, avoiding naptime, eating yet again, and just generally having a silly old good time.

All in all, I have to say, it was a pretty good Christmas. But next year I'm locking her in her room until at least 8:00.

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

When this post goes up, we'll hopefully still be nestled, all snug in our beds, with visions of sugarplums dancing in our heads -- unless someone gets indigestion or has bad dreams or something. That's been known to happen around here. But when we finally get up and about, we'll see that Santa has been here, and he left us some goodies.

We're lucky that Santa stops by our house early, sometimes well before midnight on Christmas Eve. I think it's because he knows this neighborhood is dicey and nobody wants to be here late if they don't have to -- who knows what kind of ill shit might happen? And to be honest, I am perfectly okay with this arrangement, because I am not sure that my homeowner's policy covers damage to sleighs on the roof, and if anything happened to Kris Kringle or one of those poor reindeer I know the guilt would kill me dead.

Oh, and Santa has authorized me to divulge the following: Shae's getting her stinking cramera. God help us all.

Obviously we're going to be busy today, as are you, I imagine. Hope whoever you're sharing the holiday with is as awesomely adorable as Those Two Up There, who will continue to be the Center Of The Universe for another few days or so. Catch you later!

Hark the Herald Angels Sing

I was totally going to write this Christmas Eve post about "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost and how it's one of my very favorite poems and I think it's about Santa taking a rest for a thermos full of Irish coffee halfway through his rounds and it was going to be all pensive and thoughtful and tender and existential and English major blahblahblah but I changed my mind because I GOT SOME PRESENTS!

And even better -- they're the HOMEMADE CRAFT PROJECT KIND.

Yes, we got the usual assortment of handprint poems and construction paper stockings decorated with glitter and cotton balls and tempera paint, and those are of course awesome, but two of the gifts in particular are SPECTACULAR and right now I have to say that I am TOTALLY IN LOVE with Shae's pre-school teachers because these craft projects are pretty kick-ass.

First up:

A frickin' water globe. This is way impressive. It's so simple -- your basic water and glitter inside a Ball jar -- but it's the simplicity of it that makes it so wonderful. I mean, who doesn't love water globes? I know Shae loves playing with water globes (we've already broken two this year) so I can just imagine how much fun it was to actually make one. But it is the cute little details that make it so extra special, like the picture of Shae sealed inside the lid and the compass in the stock and this thing which tells time and the little ornament that floats inside:

I am so enamored of this thing, in fact, that I might try to make some as gifts next year, if I don't forget all about it by then. But the very best present of all is my new favorite ornament that we have put in a place of honor on the tree, up near the star:

How precious is that? A little angel made of toilet paper rolls and tinsel, with her little face on it? I mean, it's not quite the soft glow of electric sex gleaming in the window but CAN YOU IMAGINE THE ADORABILITY OF THIS THING? Sweet cracker sandwich. Now I know why, for years and years, my mother had boxes of ornaments that we made in school, carefully wrapped in tissue and newspaper, packed away in a box, kept away from everything else where it would be safe.

And that is the true Christmas miracle, right there: that I am turning into my mother a little more every day AND I DON'T EVEN CARE. Not one bit. Because you totally know I'm going to get some kind of plexiglas action-figure box to keep this ornament in, I love it so.

=====

In all seriousness, whatever you're doing this Christmas Eve: be careful, be safe, and most of all, be loved. Remember that we've all got miles to go before we sleep. Merry Christmas, and may God bless us, every one. xoxo.

Wordless Wednesday: Hot Chocolate

The Three Faces of (Almost Christmas) Eve

We went to the mall yesterday, because Shae needed shoes for Christmas and for the wedding we have coming up on New Year's Day. And even my lame little local mall was a mob scene. People everywhere. Screaming parents screaming at their screaming children. Bad covers of songs that were crappy to begin with. And no parking.

I can't believe that I used to love being in the mall at Christmastime. When I was in high school and college, I used to make arrangements with friends to meet up at the mall on Black Friday and Christmas Eve, when we could, just to roam around in packs and eat junk food all day and watch other people and be around the teeming masses during the busy time of year.

Of course, that was 15+ years ago. Somewhere between high school and parenthood, I developed a kind of combination claustrophobia-enochlophobia that manifests itself most assertively in malls during the holidays. Or perhaps it is just that I hate people -- especially rude, pushy, nasty, hissing people who don't say "please," "thank you," or "excuse me," and who seem to be made entirely of pointy elbows.

But I'm done now; it's all over. No more mall for me until after Christmas. My shopping is done, except for lottery scratchers and gifts that can wait until after the holiday proper. I am still waiting for one package to arrive, and I have a handful of things to wrap, but other than that, it's all over but the crying and the spiked egg nog.

* does the Snoopy dance from "A Charlie Brown Christmas" *

All Is Calm

This isn't the best picture of SNOWPOCALYPSE NOW 2009!, or even the most interesting, but it is my favorite because I think it is the most Christmas-y.

Granted, this picture is grainy because it's from the iPhone instead of the Magic Faerie Unicorn Cam, but then again, some of my best memories of my best Christmases are grainy and distorted. And it kind of shows off why I like to do all-white lights on my tree: when some random stranger takes a picture of the street at night, maybe when it is snowing, the lights on the tree will twinkle and sparkle and wink and smile in that warm, welcoming, incandescent way that only white lights can.

By the time it is actually Christmas, a lot of this snow will be gone, but for one night, anyway, my neighborhood was quiet, blanketed with feathery still-falling snow, only a few sets of footprints on the sidewalks. All sound was muffled, and yet while I stood on my porch, I could still hear the gentle hum of coziness, as everyone tucked inside their homes with coffee or cocoa or hot toddies, watching a favorite Christmas movie or wrapping last-minute gifts or snuggling under ancient afghans. Being together, loving each other, safe and warm, enjoying an actual moment of Zen.

Sleep in heavenly peace.

Wintersong

We're digging out now -- well, technically, G is digging us out, and I am holding down the snow fort by keeping Shae occupied with a constant stream of Nick Jr. shows, clementines and grapes, and coloring books. It's harder than you might think, because this kid can really pack away the fruit, and she has the attention span of a gnat.

Later we're going to attempt to finish up our shopping. Not much left to do now, just a couple of small things. We need to get Shae new shoes for Christmas, since both her previous dress shoes and her Dorothy shoes are too small now. Her shoes from the wedding still fit, but I can't already condemn her to the special place in Hell reserved for people who wear white shoes after Labor Day. (I'm pretty sure that's the Sixth Circle, if you're keeping score at home.)

They said on the news this morning that Philadelphia got close to two feet of snow. By our estimation, we got somewhere between 9" and 15". Hard to tell, because we did some clearing yesterday, and it was windy overnight, so there was some drifting. It was the "easy" kind of snow, the kind we used to have in Syracuse, the really fine stuff that seems to be made of artificial fibers. Hopefully this will melt, unlike the stuff up there, that just gradually turned black and nasty.

We're in the home stretch now -- less than a week until Christmas and all the dizziness and drama that comes with it (meant in a good way). My sister and brother-in-law and my scrumptious nephew are coming in on Wednesday, and it looks like the weather should be decent for them to get in. I only have a three-day work week, since I took a vacation day for Christmas Eve, and after we're done shopping, we might able to go back out to play in the snow some more.

And soon I get to start keeping track of days until pitchers and catchers and new third basemen report for Spring Training. (58 days! Whee!)

Winter Wonderland

It's been snowing since early this morning -- it started sometime after 3am, but I'm not sure when -- and according to the forecast, we have a chance for up to a foot before it's all over. Don't know that it's going to be that bad, but just the same, we're prepared to be holed up until I have to go to work on Monday morning, with occasional trips outside to play in the snow.

Not sure if it's the weird look of the lighting because it was getting close to dark and still snowing, or what, but when I look at these pictures I see a sort of Scandinavian-Artic graininess, like we're shooting scenes for a remake of Nanook of the North or something.

Visions of Sugarplums

I have to admit that I have never really been much of an artist -- not a draw-er, anyway. I love to color, but I am one of those unfortunates who can't make a straight line with a ruler. My palm trees are passable, but I'm not really all that great at Pictionary (especially because I always get nigh upon impossible things to draw, like "evade" -- like, really?). Charades? Hell yes. But you don't want me on your team for Cranium unless someone else can do the illustration bits.

However, my inability to create traditional visual art (i.e., paintings and stuff, not digital scrapbook pages, which are more graphic design than actual "art" most of the time, at least when I do it) does not mean I can't appreciate other people's work. I can (and do) lose myself in museums, especially ones with decent Impressionist collections. Drop me in a room with soft natural lighting and some Monets and Renoirs and books of Romantic and Imagist poetry and a big comfy armchair and some tea (Earl Grey, hot), and you might never see me again.

Of course, as much as I attempt to enjoy art, I don't always understand it. I'm fully willing to admit that why I love, say, "Bend in the Epte River near Giverny" so much, or "The Bathers," is because I can look at those works, tell what they are paintings of, and then let my imagination run wild, creating stories about these people and places, trying to think up words to describe that particular time of day or that particular shade of pinkish-green or that particular angle of light. I have a hard time with some modern art, because I just don't get what it's supposed to be.

As in the above exhibit. Shae drew this, obviously, and she's already better than I am, although ... what is this, exactly? A large fish? A fairy princess? A Christmas tree? A Rorschach test? I am not (entirely) making fun here either, or being snarky. I honestly want to know. I want to understand. She clearly had a grand old time making this picture, and I want to encourage her to keep doing this. I want to fill my refrigerator with her artwork, however cubist or deconstructionist it may be.

And I can't wait to introduce her to Jackson Pollock. Because that stuff all looks so angry to me, but doesn't it look like a hell of a lot of fun to make?

Santa / Baby

So, this whole getting-our-picture-taken-with-Santa-Claus-thing, huh? Hoo boy.

As a related aside, did you know that it is impossible to argue logically with a toddler? There's just no way to do it. That I have found, anyway, and I'm pretty sure I've tried everything. It's a lot like trying to debate with a particularly belligerent chipmunk on amphetamines or something. I just ... there aren't words in the English language to describe it.

Santa Claus was at the day care yesterday, at the end of the day, and there was just no getting Shae to sit on his lap, or anywhere near him, really. Apparently her entire class lost their collective shit when they saw him walk past the classroom window. I should feel better knowing it's not just my kid -- my nephew Joey doesn't like Santa either, and apparently neither did my husband when he was a kid -- but yet I still feel there's something weird and unwholesome and wrong about using Santa for discipline and blackmail at this point, if Shae doesn't "get" it yet.

I tried to have a conversation with Shae about it yesterday at dinner and our discussion went something approximately like this:

ME: So I heard that Santa was at school today.
SHAE: I don't like Santa.
ME: Well if you don't like Santa, then who brings you presents?
SHAE: Santa. (She is giving me a look here, like "Duh, lady, how could you be so stupid?")
ME: How is Santa supposed to know what you want if you won't sit on his lap and tell him?
SHAE: I want a cramera. (Another look, this one more like "Are you kidding me with this, lady?")
ME: Well, I know that, but how is Santa supposed to know that?
SHAE: (Brief pause.) Mommy, Santa is creepy. (Resumes putting chicken nuggets on head, or whatever.)

And so on. In a lot of fundamental ways, she's totally right, of course: Santa kind of is a creepy weirdo stalker. But, you know, one of those benevolent ones, not the kind that lives in a cabin in the woods and drives a dirty white van filled with candy and video equipment.

So probably these pictures of her posing with the "Santa Claws" cat pillow is the best we're going to do this year. There's going to be a Santa Cow at the Chick-Fil-A this weekend, but I don't know if I really want to try to keep pushing the issue. Hopefully she'll get over it by next Christmas.

Or, you know, maybe I will.

(Mostly) Wordless Wednesday: Ode to Joy

Can't Talk -- Eating

According to the CrapCam, I took this video on November 8th, which was like two weeks after we got back from Chicago for Joey's birthday and christening, so I don't really know what all of this is about. She's eating leftover Chinese food here, and we're sitting in the dining room. Beyond that I can provide no context whatsoever, unfortunately. I have no idea why we're having this conversation.

I took a couple of videos that day, evidently; one of them is a clip of Shae eating (some more) and about a minute into it, Owen pops his head up in the lower right corner and she tells him to go get his own food and then says "Scram!" for like thirty seconds. Personally, I think it's hysterical, but I'm a little stressed out right now, so I think it might actually be me who's hysterical.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this random cuteness!

Making A List, Checking It Twice (Or Maybe For The 30th Time In Case Something Got Done For You By The Christmas Fairies While You Weren't Looking)

(Insert "Waaaaaaaambulance" sound effects here.)

So at this point there are 11 days left until Christmas, only 10 more shopping days, and I am starting to think that maybe I am screwed, because my "To-Do" list is getting longer and longer every day, and at this point I think I've come back around again to leftover holiday tasks from 2008 that didn't get completed. I just can't tell any more -- it's all so hectic and stressful and at 8:00 in the morning I kind of already need a good stiff drink, and maybe an Ativan.

I manage to freak myself out every year, to the point where now it's kind of a running gag in my house. When I get home from work I half expect G to ask me, "So what did you forget to do today?" I complained about this last year, and I'll probably complain about it next year, too (but I am not made of magic so I can't link to a future post that hasn't been written yet). "Bitching about Christmas chores" is one of the Universal Constancies, right up there with "The Princess Bride will always be funny" and "Perkin'ses are always the same everywhere."

It's just -- I look at this list and I kind of want to run away and join the circus. The bulk of my shopping is done, in the sense of "the most expensive presents," but I still have about eleventy thousand little piddling gifts to get, and larger stuff I put off until my next paycheck tomorrow. Things for cousins and friends' kids and co-workers, and also G's "big" gift, and most of the gifts for my mother-in-law. Stocking stuffers for one of my sisters and her husband. The cards need to be finished. And I haven't even had time to think about whether I'm going to bake and make candy or not.

Yeah, it's going about this well.

Christmas Kids in America

Yesterday was the annual kids' Christmas party at the Legion, and I'm not going to lie: this is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of the holiday season. It's your typical community holiday party -- music, singing, audience participation, Santa Claus, gifts for the kids, hot dogs -- but there's something special about this one. Maybe it's because so many Big Family Events happen at the Legion, for some reason, or maybe it's just that it's one of those parties that doesn't pretend to be any more than it is. It's just a fun little party, and we have a good time.

I got a bunch of really nice pictures yesterday, including pictures of all my cousins and my cousins' kids on Santa's lap, but not my own kid, because Shae would have none of it. No way, no how. We agreed in advance that she didn't have to sit on Santa's lap, just give him a high five, but that didn't work. As soon as she saw him, she tensed up, and by the time they called her name, she was latched onto G for dear life. He couldn't even put her down for her to take her present herself.

But of all the pictures, I like these two best, of my cousin Brittany (top) and also Haley and Bianca, who belong to two of my cousins. These don't even look like they come from a Christmas party, do they? One of the last songs that the afternoon's entertainment performed was a medley of "Battle Hymn of the Republic" and "God Bless America" -- this was at the Legion, after all -- and they asked for kids to come out and help out the "choreography" by waving flags. It was really charming, even to my embittered old jaded and sarcastic soul. Kids + flags = instant adorable, even to us Communists.

Well, of course there were naughty elves. Isn't that sort of de rigueur?

But, yes, we had a lovely time, and now today we are at home doing laundry and trying to find the rest of the presents that need to be wrapped. No luck so far -- maybe things will be better after a restorative nap?

Wine & Pirates

Yesterday was my sister's birthday, and we took her and her husband out to dinner to celebrate. This is in part because I didn't get her "real" present done in time -- I'm supposed to be redesigning her blog, but with all the other time-sensitive things I had going on, I just didn't get it finished in time -- but we also wanted to go out somewhere and just spend some time with her, somewhere quieter and less busy than my grandparents' on a weekend.

I knew it was going to be a good night when Shae was yelling "Shelley!Shelley!Shelley!Shelley!" just like that, all in a row with no breaths, all the way across the parking lot. The second I got home from work she started in with the third degree: "Where's Shelley? When are we gonna see Shelley? Is she coming here? Are we going to her house? When are we leaving? Let's go!" Driving to the restaurant was one of the longest and cutest hours of my life.

Honestly, it might as well have been "The Shelley and Shae Show," for all the attention either of them paid to the rest of us at dinner. They were thick as thieves, drawing and coloring and laughing their little secrets ... and it was a great thing to see. Sometimes I feel like I live so far away from home, and I hardly ever get to see my sister because we're both always working or running around, and it's just great to let my daughter see how awesome my sister is occasionally.

Happy Birthday Shelleybeans!

Today is my sister Shelleybeans!'s birthday. She's, like, 206 or something ... no, wait, that's me. She's much younger than that -- 201, I think. Or maybe it's 202. Can't remember. Am old.

Anyway ... happy birthday Shelleybeans!

Hope your day is awesome. (And you look fantastic for 202 -- not a day over 195, I swear!)