Fiff and Fiffing

What a day yesterday turned out to be. I did about 3 hours worth of work today on floorplans, and 3 hours worth of driving. I got bait in Beverly next door to our old apartment (why they pave the lawn? Why did they change the locks? Why did I have to break in? I only came here to talk.) The day was a whirlwind of excitement from first thing this morning to the fishing derby.

We got to the fishing derby with our bait (I bought WAY too much) and got down to the pond to find that the water level was so intensely high that there was literally nowhere to safely cast. The edge of the water was way up in the tree line... a lot of kids gave up on the woods and went to the street. We didn't want to go where eight thousand other cub scouts were going, so we made the best out of where we were.

Check Doug out:





I was prepared to wade out above my knees (sandals and cotton pyjama pants) but Doug stepped up to the bat and did the Dad Thing. He rolled his pant legs up, and they rolled down while he was out there, and then he figured "In for a penny, in for a pound!" and waded farther in to get a good cast out. I was impressed... don't any of you bastards EVER say Doug's a cruddy dad, m'kay?

Dude wins.

We stood there while Geoff held his pole, wondering what the heck to do... "This is fishing. Isn't it thrilling?!" Doug said to Geoff. I had to laugh. Yeah. Wished I had a lawn chair at that point.

After a little while, and listening to the other boys and their dads all through the woods talking about how they weren't catching anything, Geoff says "Um. Where did my bobber go?" I looked at the water, and sure enough, it was under the surface.

"Reel it in buddy, you got a bite!"

He had a lot of slack on the line due to the bait and bobber just floating back towards us... so he didn't feel the pull at all. He reeled in, and there was the fish. Holy crap, he actually CAUGHT something!

A 9.5 inch Yellow Perch. Great Googly Moogly. They measured it up, and we released it with much rejoicing and Geoff's interest rekindled. Both of us had been basically ready to sack the fishing and leave... but now. Game on!

We had some trouble with the line being twisted, so we cut and tied and fixed it. As the horn blew ending the derby, we were in the process of reeling in our second fish. A bass, same length. Two fish in one hour. Wow.

I was impressed with Geoff's patience and his willingness to wait, watch, listen and follow direction. I was more impressed with Doug's willingness to walk out into the water.

Flickr pictures are posted.

This morning, we're heading out again so Geoff can try his hand at casting on his own. Wish us luck.

Coyote

Thursday morning, I was driving to the office and I was in Peabody on Lynnfield Street near the CVS (for those of you familiar with the area). I noticed a dog on the side of the road, straying into traffic and looking around from side to side.

Only. He wasn't a dog. He was a coyote. Smack dab in the middle of one of the busiest roads in the city of Peabody. Walking up the middle of Lynnfield Street. Right there. He was very young and very thin, lanky, very long in the legs. Long bushy tail, huge pointy ears. I slowed down and he ran behind me. I grabbed my camera, but he ran into the schoolyard and into the meager woods there and took cover.  

No one else was there on the road. The car in front of me didn't see him, and no one was coming the opposite direction or up behind me at breakneck speed.

So I wondered for a while, why no one was there. It was morning in Peabody for crying out loud... normally insanely crowded, I would have been sitting there backed up to Summit Street on any other given day.

I'm not one prone to believe in symbols and messages... but I did a little looking up of what the Coyote symbolizes in a few cultures.

I used to think the Bear was my "power animal..." perhaps I've had it wrong. Ole Coyote brought a smile to my clowning, sarcastic face, and I drove away without my photographic evidence with the memory of something strange and peculiar in the middle of the North Shore.

Tooth Fairy

Last night, driving home in the whipping! driving! dangerous! they're going to evacuate your town! pouring rain, stressing about what I'd left behind undone in the office (because it wasn't ready for me to start doing when I left) I decided we needed Chinese food for dinner.

When I got home with the Chinese food, I served up the kids. I'd gotten chicken noodle soup for Geoff, because I knew he couldn't really bite anything else. He has been working on a loose tooth. He's eight and has only lost four teeth to date, something which I think is kind of an oddity. But with Geoff -- we come to understand these oddities are part of who he is.

A fifth (top, front, left) became loose yesterday, and he'd worked into near detachment but couldn't get past the last ... little... you know. Bit.

So he asked me to pull it. ugh. It's not the first time my son has turned to me in this need, longtime readers of the journal will know. He tried, really hard. He's pulled out other teeth on his own. But this time -- oh man.

Cringe now. You know you want to.

He brought me a piece of toilet paper and I wrapped it around this tiny, itty-bitty little tooth. Seriously, the damn thing is microscopic, almost. And I got a good grip, looked him in the eye and asked him if he was sure...

because I sure as hell wasn't.

He nodded. I pulled. He cringed and I heard a pip noise... I stopped because I felt woozy. I asked if he was okay and he gestured thumbs-up and waved his hand for me to go again.

And instead of a pip, it was a pop!

His head reeled back -- and I held this tiny tooth, with no blood, no nothing anywhere. Not like other teeth in the past.

He was pretty psyched, had a huge bowl of ice cream. Went to bed with the tooth beneath his pillow.

I set to work on floorplans for work. Doug was asleep on the couch at about 7:30 so I spent a few hours cranking out floorplans and emailing Amy back and forth before I went in at 10, watched the headlines and fell promptly asleep.

At 6:15, I could hear Geoff talking to Jessica in the livingroom. And I sat bolt upright.

I'd forgotten to do the tooth fairy duties. Crap! Earlier this year, you may recall that I forgot to do Easter Bunny duties and found myself at CVS at 10pm shopping with other absent minded parents and stoned college aged girls for chocolate.

I snuck into his room, which is no easy feat because the damn thing is a nightmarish mess, and popped the tooth out of its little holder and hid the dollar inside his gameboy case, which he keeps under his pillow (along with his glasses). I went to the bathroom, started the coffee, took the dogs out.

"Oh, hey Geoffman. Did the tooth fairy come last night?" I asked as I made his breakfast.

A very sad an dejected no came from his sad little one-missing tooth face. I asked him if he was sure. So he double checked and to his amazement found the tooth missing but couldn't find the dollar. Geoff doesn't think beyond the obvious, and didn't think to look inside the case. So he was on the edge of freaking out when I suggested he look there.

Overjoyed.

Seeing as he's only lost 5 teeth in his young life, and is old enough to know about the tooth fairy, I'm sitting on the fence as to whether or not he needs to know. He hasn't reaped enough of the benefits (ie: dollars) for losing his teeth yet... but he's ready to know the truth. Especially because I can't remember to take care of these things at 11pm before I go to bed. It'd be much nicer to just hand him a dollar and say "congrats on ripping that thing out, dude!"

I'm posting a poll over at Universal Hub to see what other parents give... I'm kind of curious. He is never disappointed that he only gets a dollar, but our neighbor girl E told Geoff a few weeks ago that she gets five. I think he's totally forgotten, which is good. But man. A finn is a lot of money for something I need a microscope to see.

Anyway -- time to shower and ready myself to face the day.

I live on the corner of Gray Street and the End of the World

It's cloudy and grey again. It's raw and cold. I just took the dogs out at 6:45, and I just cannot believe we've got another day of this and the forecast of continued crap weather continues for most of the full week.

It is crushing my soul. It really is.

Yesterday Doug wanted to go hiking. I backed out. He took Geoff and the little dog and they did a 3 mile hike in Andover, and it didn't rain on them. I went to the grocery store, and the sky opened up on me in the parking lot as I was putting the groceries into the vehicle.

Geoff's Spongebob pants are too bright and yellow for me this morning. My eyes are going to bleed if I have to look at them again.

I'm not feeling the love for the prospect of camping this weekend, and I know if I say that to Doug he'll freak out. He so wants to go. But I really cannot fathom getting everything and everyone ready. And the prospect of possible rain will just simply take my psyche and grind it into the ashtray of life.

Oh, woe is me.

We're all up early this morning. Jess left for the bus, Geoff is eating breakfast and playing video games. Doug's in the shower.

I'm not sure how I did it today. Normally I'd be forcing myself out of bed at 7:30 on a day like this, but I managed to get up. I think the overwhelming need to pee did it for me, and then Jessica telling me that she may have left her MP3 player in her jeans pocket, which is sitting in the washing machine right now waiting to go into the dryer... that pissed me off enough to get the blood running and keep me from getting back into bed after going to the bathroom.

I cannot believe that kid.

So I took the dogs out. Jack did step on my flowers and did crush them... which leads me to believe that it is pointless of me to even try and do anything further because what little joy I attempt will simply be stomped on by something larger and furrier than me.

I am a gloomy little cuss this morning, aren't I?

I'm thinking I may deliberately redo the month's layout to something bright and eye-piercingly happy and springy just to see if that helps. I mean, this layout is as grey as anything... and perhaps continuing to spend time cultivating it could be a contributing factor to my ongoing Meh-ness. But, I somehow doubt it. It's the fault of the sky. And that 10 day forecast there. Holy crap that's grim.

Anyway -- I'm going to get showered and be ready on time this morning. And go look in the washer and dryer for an MP3 player. I wonder if that's covered under warranty? I bought an extended warranty for her because I was sure she'd drop it. Never thought she'd leave it in her pants. And unlike my mom, I have an anti-pocket cleaning philosphy. If you leave it in your pockets, it's your own damn fault. Money? It's mine when it comes out in the dryer lint filter. Notes from your friends? You get yelled at when all the laundry is covered by a billion little papery bits. MP3 player? I don't even know the consequence of that one. But it may entail some screaming later today. By me. At her.

I live on the corner of Grey Street. And the end of my sanity...

School Concert Rage

We just got home from Jessica's "spring" concert. It's blowing like a mofo out there, some "spring" we're having. But. The choir director didn't rename the concert "alleged spring concert," as I told her she should have (you know, printed it upon the programs and all). They started with the string sextet. And they were god awful. Two of the girls sat there like they'd been doped with atavan before coming out on stage... limp, slouchy, uncaring. And two of them didn't tune their instruments to any sort of agreeable with the rest of the instruments tuning.

The cello player, however -- she kicked ass. I wanted to hug her and thank her after they were finished.

The choir was good, but once again I was shocked at the level of tom foolery exhibited by three of the girls (in the back row, on the end. You saw them, I'm sure you did).

Shifting stances, yawning, not looking at the sheet music, putting the sheet music away before the song was over, talking to one another, waving at people in the audience, scratching scalps, pulling down on the back of the all-too incredibly mini-skirts, crossing feet one over the other while standing all akimbo, lifting the ankle to scratch it in the middle of a song...

...the entire time.

I wanted to throttle each of them. All three of them. Especially when they talked on the risers during other choir members' solo performances.

Gee, bitches. Sorry a choir performance broke out in the middle of your little coffee clatch... Shut the hell up for ten seconds. Pay attention to the choir director. Why the hell are you UP there in the first place? Did mommy make you sign up for choir because she has big dreams for her little angel? What, you think you're some sort of karaoke diva and Rogers and Hammerstein is too boring for you so you won't come in on cue and you put your sheet music away before the big finish, and you yawn and start giggling.

Please, woman.

Get off the riser and go home. American Idol is on. You're missin' it.

I'm only a little, tiny, itty bitty bit perturbed.

I will say, that on the whole the performance was very nice. Aside from the murderous rage I was feeling, I was impressed by a few of the solos. One girl sang an Evanescence song, which was beautifully done even though the lyrics were darn creepy and half the audience probably had no clue what the hell was going on. I enjoyed it though. She did a kick-ass job on a song that is probably not meant to be performed with just a clunky middle school piano. My daughter's hair looks gorgeous when she wears it down, which is something she does so infrequently that it breaks my heart. So it wasn't a 100% horrible night.

After I posted my entry this morning, Doug informed me that we are indeed not going camping this weekend. It is not going to stop raining. We will not be able to build a nice roaring fire beside which to drink beer. We will not enjoy cooking over the little wee Coleman single-burner stovey thing I bought last year, and we will not freeze damply inside our tent. Even if it stops raining for a few hours, everything on this God's green earth will remain soaky until next month.

So. Doug woke up on the side of pure, clear reason, without me having to resort to whinging.

I'm so relieved.

I hate rain camping. Being cooped in a tent with Geoff and 2 stir crazy confused dogs is not my idea of a good time.

Back in the day, when it was just me, Doug and Jessica, when she was 2, yeah. We did it and we did it well. We played cards in the tent, and she danced and sang and we had a grand-assed old time.

Nowadays, there are far too many of us, one of whom is blessed with ADHD, another blessed with being an adolescent female. And it just is not a party.

Instead?

Doug has decided to measure what's left of the ceiling that needs drywalled, and he's going to buy drywall and finish the ceiling. And ... skim coat it. AND... paint it.

I almost fainted when he told me this. I'll keep you posted on whether or not we succeed.

Well, I'm only a little overtired, and because I totally got soaked in the rain I didn't get to take my pictures for my weather tiles, but I swear by the end of this week I'll have them ready to share. And you can put them on your webpage too when the weather is doing stuff that you either like or dislike.

It will be the living end.

Rain, rain, everywhere, especially in my pants

It is absolutely freaking POURING out this morning. All the grey that had been accumulating in the sky finally broke through. I took the dogs out in the soaking piss of rain, I dragged the 3 trash barrels out to the kerb in the stinging wind of rain.

I offered to take Geoff and E to school in the car to avoid getting any wetter, but they both wanted to use their umbrellas so they begged me to ride the bus.

Okay.

We were walking to the bus stop and some fucktard in a Lexus drives past me and hits all the standing water in the street - the result was drenched pants. My drenched pants. El Drencho Grande. Dre-en-nched.

So I stood at the bus stop with the kids, freezing my left leg off. The bus was late. Next time, remind me to be more stern and beat the children into submission and ride in the freaking car.

Actually, they had a great time using their umbrellas, and were very, very happy. My consequential misery should not detract from their good behavior and abject joy.

So.

I came back in to get dry pants, only to discover that all of my work appropriate pants are in the dryer, not quite dry. Instead of waiting an hour, I took my hair dryer to these pants, and I opted to sit down, compose and relax, and pen this entry. It is a morning like this that normally would give me the strong desire to retreat to my bed and stay there all day.

Or.

To simply work from home. Lord knows J and M gave me enough floorplans to keep me busy all day. And I could put on more coffee and crank up Songs for Silverman and work my A off on the floorplans.

But.

That is my plan for this Friday when I take the day to be here, due to dog and boy doctor appointments (at different doctors mind you. Not at the same place...).

Hence.

I shall go to work. On that note. Cheers.

Sunday at home

Yesterday we went out and bought our garden items, the veggies and the flowers. When it isn't so grey and rainy out, I'll take pictures.

Jessie's friend came over and all of us set to work and had a great time getting stuff in the ground. No sooner had we finished than the sky opened up. The forecasters stated that it wasn't going to rain until after midnight, but there we were at about 4pm all trapped inside. We rented some movies, got some pizza and had a nice evening in with Jess' friend.

We watched "Elf" for the first time since we saw it in the theatre when it came out. For a Christmas themed movie, it didn't annoy me seeing it in May (the kids chose it) Will Ferrell is really sweet and cute in this film. James Caan is killer funny. The corny factor in the end was slightly annoying, but on the whole we really enjoyed it, and recommend it if you haven't seen it.

The kids went to bed, and Doug and I watched "Shaun of the Dead," which he saw last weekend and told me he'd watch again if I wanted to get it. For Doug to watch a movie twice, that's a high endorsement. So we watched and I loved it. Hysterical. Loved the whole beginning where the general population is shown as "zombies" before they become zombies. The entire postmodern lifestyle is spotlighted before Z-day, and it is obvious as to why Shaun can't tell that people are zombies for 24 hours, because he's just used to it. That and people being drunk. He's used to that too. The movie explodes into gory zombie violence and incredible humor as this appliance salesman attempts to save his mom, his girlfriend, and a trail of hangers-on. The end results are quite amusing. Really loved it. Highly recommend if you enjoy the genre.

And we also rented "The Incredibles," which we all watched this morning. What an outstanding movie. Absolutely love that one. Will watch it again and again. Promise.

Last night I had another spasm-riddled night, but managed to fall back asleep around 7am. Doug took the dogs out, closed the bedroom door and I guess decided to not bother waking me for church. I slept until noon. It's another disgustingly cloudy, rainy day. I'm getting incredibly sick of this weather. My friend Amy sent me pictures from her daughter's birthday party in their Phoenix AZ area home, and it made me jealous to see that they are all tan, and half naked.

New England. Pfth.

Anyway -- Doug took the boy and the puppy hiking. They needed to get out of the house. They are pre-scouting a hike that we're putting together for Geoff's cub scout den for early June to make sure it's a good, long hike with a nice goal point where we can have lunch. Doug's good at planning these things.

I am going to work for a bit, shower and then go to the market. We are out of the basics for food, and resorted to eating bread today, which we normally don't do. That and we have no breakfast cereal or milk, which will make Geoff's morning no fun tomorrow. I hate going to the market on weekends. It's always such a nightmare. But. It is for the greater good.

Muscle Spasms

I had the crappiest night's sleep last night. At about 3am, my left arm and shoulder started twitching, and I couldn't get back to sleep. A few years ago, I looked up information on restless leg syndrome, which I probably have to some extent. I wake up once in a while with this incredibly uncomfortable feeling in my arms or legs, with twitching and "crawling" sensations ... and then I can't get back to sleep.

So I ended up on the couch to avoid bothering Doug. I eventually fell back asleep at about 5am, and Geoff was up shortly thereafter. He was polite and quiet and played in his room for as long as he could.

I'm feeling like my arm is still all twitchy. I had hoped manual labor would help reduce that sensation or at least take my mind off of it but it is still very there and very annoying.

Part of me wonders if there is a vitamin thing going on, that I'm not getting the right nutrients. Another part wonders if this is something that you get from working on the computer for too long, kind of like carpal tunnel. And yet another part (notice, I didn't use percentages) wonders if I don't have MS or Parkinson's.

"Maybe it's a tumor."
"IT'S NOT A TUMOR!"

We got out early and got some plants for the gardens. We reorganized the flower beds, shortening one because nothing ever grows down that end and the dogs have a penchant for peeing down that way. Doug turned over the fire pit and returned that spot to its original purpose -- a vegetable garden. Jessie and her friend C are up front putting in marigolds and clematis on the fence.

Hopefully all the hard work pays off. Me? I needed a break from being out there. Digging is fun but I have a low tolerance for it sometimes. Especially when over-tired.

Well. I better get out there again before I'm accused of being a slacker.

Liquor Booty

I had a lot of good laughs at my own expense this weekend. The title is one of them. We went out on a big box hunt and filled the truck with boxes from Plaistow NH's state liquor store. In NH, the state runs the liquor business, so the liquor stores are few and far between. They don't sell beer at all. You can buy beer all over the place, in gas stations even, which doesn't happen in Massachusetts.

New Hampshire is a very peculiar little place.

Anyway, there is a state liquor store right off of the highway going up I-95. Perhaps you've seen it. We went there first but only got two boxes. We then had to go to Plaistow to get to the next closest liquor store to our house. We could have gone up to Portsmouth or out to Rte 1 to Seabrook, but we wanted to get closer to home... so we hit Plaistow.

They had tons and tons of boxes and told us we could take as many as we wanted. So we loaded up the big ole truck, and drove away with our "Box Booty." Jess said we were like Pirates on the prowl for treasure.

While we were at the liquor store, Doug made some purchases. One cannot be low on Gin when one has five days left to pack all one's belongings, can one? No. One cannot.

So we had four bottles of booze in the truck.

We got home, and Jess said "I'm going to go inside for a minute and then come out for the box booty."

"Yes," I said, "And we cannot forget liquor booty as well."

And I stopped and put my hand over my mouth -- Liquor Booty. Oh dear God, did I just say Lick Her Booty in front of my daughter?

"Oh, that came out wrong." I muttered. And Jess died laughing. She caught it, and knew what the entendre was.

So Liquor Booty is the new inside joke between mom and Jess. Every mom and girl need an inside joke. We have about 100. And now, 101. Luckily my daughter didn't turn around and say "Liquor box is just as naughty to say, mom."

Heh. Liquor box.

---

And as many of you know, there was insane amounts of rain last weekend. We had tons of flooding all over the region. Our creek and pond handled it wonderfully with no overflowing ... and our basement got less than an inch of rain in it, which, compared to others (cough, Mr. Garfield) is nothing.

Heh. Suzanne graduated from nursing school.

Long time followers of this journal know that a year ago right about now her 12 year old daughter had brain surgery, almost didn't make it, there was a LOT of drama, and there continues to be a lot of worry and drama for K.

Suzanne and Gerry (pictured here) went with us to Mohegan Sun when we went to see BNL. She was my ticket buddy, and is a good pal. I am proud of her, all she managed to accomplish, all she fought through. All she did and all she will do -- I can't say that this is a meaningless event for me, watching from the sidelines in her life.

Here's to you Suzanne (and Gerry! and K and J and all the family). Hopefully next year won't be nearly as stressy. Congrats girl. Congrats.

---

Anyway -- we're packing. We're making progress. We're throwing out stuff, we're saving stuff. We're making little funny discoveries that crack my shit right up. Doug has spent two days on one closet alone. Two. Days. He is reading everything in there, and we don't really have time. I would rather he bring everything with to the new house, read it there, and then use it for kindling in the woodstove when the time comes. But. If I argue he'll push back and no progress will be achieved.

When we went to go to on the box hunt, we argued a little as to who would go. Geoff and I went last Saturday. I thought he should go.

"We both could go," he suggested.

"Well, that wouldn't be an efficient use of our time, would it?" I replied.

He sniffed sadly and said, "Our love is inefficient."

Yes, he ended up coming with me. Our love may be inefficient, but it is lasting.

I'm sure he's sitting in the other room muttering and cursing me right now for not participating in the packing, but I needed a break.

---

And I leave you with this:

This weekend, one of my daughter's friends had a birthday party. It was a skating party, and the mom and dad rented the whole place out for a private party. No one else was there.

So a lot of parents stuck around, and I knew my friend Suzanne would be there, burning off the stress of her recent nursing school graduation. So I agreed to stay and skate as well. Jess doesn't skate. I think she was ten and was trying to learn and fell down, and has never gotten back on skates. I wanted to show her that one would not die if one skated.

So. I skated.

Dude -- check out the size of those gianormous feet. I have Side Show Bob feet when they're inside skates!

They had inline skates and old-school skates. I had to go with the old school, and transport myself back to 1980 which is I think the last time I actually skated. "This is me in Grade Nine baby, yeah! This is me in Grade Nine!" I was singing it in my head over and over as I went around the floor, getting lapped repeatedly by 14 year old boys and girls. The only one not lapping around me was Courtney's three year old brother. I left him in the dust and the boy had to EAT IT! Yeah, eat my dust kid!

I gave up after it felt like my calves were going to explode.

I was trying to figure out how to use my thigh muscles to skate, and they were no help at all... so the burden was entirely on the calves. I hated it.

Now I'm sore.

And I predicted correctly -- Doug just came in and sighed. So I better get back at it. Wish us luck in getting it all done, y'all. Wish us luck.

Stop Lights Stopped

This morning on the way to work, every stop light was out. For some strange reason, unknown to me, the power was out in Peabody, Salem, Swampscott and Marblehead.

I'll make the following incredibly generalized blanket statement. People in Peabody were kind and generous. There was a lot of easy flow of traffic at otherwise cutthroat intersections. With no traffic lights, people waited, gave right of way, took turns.

The kindness dwindled as I got closer to Swampscott, where people began cutting one another off in cars that cost more than my annual salary.

And by the time I made it to the four stop lights I have to go through in tony Marblehead... people were downright dicky. I stopped to let a man make a left turn in front of me. The woman behind him (black Lexus and 5000 dollar sunglasses) gunned her vehicle to ride his wake, and attempted to kill me, and flipped me off when I beeped at her.

Now, if basic instincts of self preservation and wanting to not lose a vehicle that I dearly need hadn't kicked in, she and I would have had a head-on collision.

And I would have sued her ever loving ass.

Money equals dicky behavior. That is my incredibly generalized blanket statement of the day.

The work week was hectic this week. And when I got to the office, I wondered if the power would come on. I desperately needed to complete the scheduling and testing of next week's content. And I was deathly afraid that I would not get a chance to. But, shortly after my arrival and about halfway through my coffee (reluctantly purchased at a Starbucks because they had a generator and were in business when everyone else was standing outside lackadaisically staring at the sky wondering what happened to the electricity) the juice began to flow and all the systems cycled back up. Work was good. All was previewed thanks to the help of MB, and my first full week as an employee finds me needing to make up 5 hours this weekend here at home doing floorplans.

The commute home was long, but no stoplights were out and no rich snobs tried to end my life. So all told, it was a good day.

I have no idea what is for dinner. My husband and my son both seem not to care. Jessica went to the school dance (which is shocking) and will be sleeping at "C"'s house tonight.

Rumor is that we're expecting more rain this weekend. Can't hardly wait. Alright -- that's all I got. Nothing too exciting, indeed. But. It is what it is. Have a good weekend and I'm sure I'll check in at some point.