Strange Days Indeed

Someone asked me recently, "how's Rio?" and I realised that was a bit of an essay question that, like Tales Of My Divorce when I was going through it, I really have no desire to go through over and over again if people ask about it in future. So I figure, if I write about it here, next time someone asks, I can just send them a link. A little less personal, I grant you, but easier on me, and you're getting the same story. Okay. This is entitled, "The Finale of Cat and Rio After Ten Years" or "The Shit Side of Altruism" (that subtitle was the comment of the friend I told the tale to).

The most important thing to remember, first, foremost and always, is that Rio is alive and well, and getting the retirement he deserves. And that was the whole point of all the trouble I went to. He's just doing it without me.T he sanctuary where he lives now is 2 1/2 hours away, so I couldn't get up there regularly even if I wanted to. And there is a guy who lives down the road (I mentioned him in my last blog) who fell in love with Rio on sight, and has adopted him - which is great for Rio, because this guy is there every day and takes really good care of him (I think the guy has family money or is independently wealthy or something, because he has been paying for ALL Rio's bills - vet, dentist, chiropractor, bought him a heated barn for the winter, way more than I could afford to do on my own).

However, the guy is...well, he's new to horses (he's a hipster type with a man-bun, the kind who thinks he knows everything about everything - I watched him mansplain to A how to feed Rio a carrot, and he told me "we really aren't giving him those right now" re the PERFECTLY HEALTHY Purina horse treats he had been getting all summer, because he himself is a hipster health food guy), and Rio has been totally spoiled by this guy...and not in a good way. The last time I was up there, he was pushy and bitey (the result of being hand-fed most of the time, I think), and frankly, a dick. And it was awful to see him that way - these people didn't know what his personality was like before, but I had to say to the woman who runs the place, you know how I have always said he would be great for your kids' program? Not anymore. He has gone from the sweetest animal alive to a horse who would need SERIOUS lessons in manners again if he were ever to work with kids again. And whatever, he's retired - but they don't want to listen to me about him, they never did - I think they were also happy to see me gone because I don't fit in with their mythology about camp owners and the way camps treat their horses. So I stopped going to visit, because it was honestly painful, and I would rather remember him the way he was. It should be mentioned, btw, that I have nothing against man-buns or people who wear them, generally.

Also, it wasn't just Man-Bun...the woman who runs the place is lovely and I will be forever grateful to her for taking him in the first place, but she doesn't listen to me regarding him and never has. I have said REPEATEDLY that this is a horse who needs a friend - he has ALWAYS had a buddy in the 10 years I have known him, to the point of being codependent. When there wasn't Ranger, there was Brumby. I BEGGED her to put him with another horse, which I think would sort out his attitude problems (honestly, I think he's lonely - the times I have been there, if another horse has gone by his enclosure, he has been VERY vocal, like HEY, PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEE), or at least put him with another horse for playdates...her excuse is that his enclosure is small, and he has trouble getting up in the mornings, and another horse in there would make it crowded. I think they just don't like advice from me, an outsider. And I never wanted to BE an outsider - I legit wanted to come up as often as I could, and work to take care of him like any of her other volunteers. But when I did, I was relegated every time to the position of tourist. Man-Bun hadn't left me anything to do regarding Rio, and I don't know where they keep their stuff, or what their procedures are, so I don't know how to help, and even though I told the owner I wanted to be taught, she never did, nor asked anyone to teach me. I was never made to feel particularly welcome, and I really couldn't tell you why, since it's not like there wasn't friendliness, and we certainly bonded over mutual loathing of Rio's former owner.

Would it really have killed them to have been a little nicer to me? They all love "Aro" (that's his new name - apparently there is already a horse up there named Rio, I don't know WHY they didn't tell me that right off the bat, it would have made me feel SO much better about the name change), how about acknowledging that if I hadn't loved him as much as I did for TEN FUCKING YEARS, he wouldn't BE there for them to love (looking at you right now, Man-Bun) - he would be in a Mexican slaughterhouse. And I have cared for this horse for a long-ass time (only part-time, true, but while he was in my care, he was VERY well cared for), why would you dismiss my advice about him? I mean, look - if it is just me that he's a dick to, because he's angry that I sent him away (horses are SUCH big babies), I accept that. But if he's HAPPY where he is, then you think he would have chilled with that by now. And the last time I went up, it was with my friend L who is also a horse person, who wanted to meet the legendary Rio, who was a little surprised when this horse's personality didn't match the one I had been describing all these years. So I don't think it's just me. But still...he's alive.

I texted L, the owner, and I told her that I was going to unfollow the Facebook page (K still stalks it and will tell me things if I need to know them, since it's not like L thinks to keep me in the loop, but this way I don't have to look at photos that ALWAYS have Man-Bun in them) and I would check in with her by text from time to time, and I would still do a birthday fundraiser for them - I raised like $700 for them this year, and I still send them some money every now and then, because it's not like I don't still care. But he's Man-Bun's horse now. Man-Bun offered to reimburse me the money I had paid for Rio, and I said no, spend that on him (I should've taken it)(no I shouldn't - but rather than the money, what would have been great would have been even one SECOND of gratitude from this guy for delivering unto him this horse he now loves so much, because IF I HADN'T LOVED HIM SO MUCH, HE WOULDN'T BE HERE FOR YOU RIGHT NOW, MY GUY, so don't offer me MONEY, just be a little fucken NICER to me instead of patronising, so how about just "thank you Cat, I really appreciate you doing what you did for him, and I promise we will all do right by him"? Would that be too much to ask?). I told her it was too painful to watch from a distance and not be part of his life, but I wasn't going to force it, and I accept that that's the way it is (and it didn't HAVE to be, damn it). And she said all the right things there, about how I saved his life, etc. And at the VERY least she has stopped making posts implying that he was this abused camp horse that they saved - like I said, I don't fit in with their mythology about camps and camp horse programs. When I explained that yes, we still do business with this dealer even though we now know she's evil, but it's because we get the same horses back year after year and we like the horses, and the kids like the horses, she was shocked - she said she had never heard of such a thing, that in her experience, camps never get the same horses back year after year. She had promised over and over again that she would make a NICE post about Rio and the camp he came from (I said, maybe don't mention any names, and you can imply whatever shit you want about his owner, but can you maybe imply nice things about the CAMP, especially since the very fact that he's HERE proves that his camp gave a shit about him?), and she never did, and I've stopped holding my breath waiting for that. As long as she doesn't post any more implying rotten things about the CAMP, I'm okay - we had to have words about that...I get it, you raise donation money from your Sarah MacLachlan-y posts that poke people in the feels, but can you please not impugn my family's camp in the process? Among other things, it's not even true - if ever there was a horse that was treated like GOLD during the summers, it was Rio. I made sure of that.

Anyway - like I said, the most important thing is that he's alive, and he's getting the retirement he deserves, and I have done all I could do for him. And I hope I am wrong about him being lonely, or I hope they finally decide to give him a friend (they even have a friendly buckskin up there, which I have told them was Rio's type). I wouldn't try to move him somewhere else - that would be selfish of me, and traumatic for him, and again, he is getting better medical care than I could afford to give him on my own. I do trust that they won't let anything unpleasant happen to him, or send him anywhere else (I've still got the paperwork that says he's mine, and L has a copy of it - I think of her as the custodial parent, and me as the non-custodial parent). I miss him terribly, and I'm not going to lie - this really really sucks. Game face aside - I loved this animal for so long, and I searched and stressed to find a place for him to go so he wouldn't be horribly killed, and no, I wasn't looking for a REWARD or anything, but I would have liked to have been able to have been part of his life in the process of saving it. I've written a children's book about him, but since I don't draw (and I don't have the strength to submit it to a billion publishing houses and get rejected), it's hard to know what to do with it, but I want to do SOMETHING with it, if only for closure. And I don't know if anyone really understands how much I am dreading the FW barn this summer without Rio...for the first time, once D leaves after 1st session (thank god I will at least have him for that long), I won't have a friend up there, I will only be the boss. And A isn't coming to camp, only planning to visit, and it's not like I really want to be working there still anyway...I just don't have anything else. Camp needs me, and they pay me, and I can't bail on them unless there's a real reason to. I've been auditioning where I can, but nothing so far. Camp without my emotional support horse (and I'm dreading having to deal with the owner again, since she is evil and vindictive and will probably hold a grudge against me forever that I got this one horse away from her - but fuck you, lady, you can't use him to manipulate me anymore the way you used to do)...I can ride Spirit and Brumby, of course, but they don't love me the way Rio did. Nobody did...and now Rio doesn't either, except in my memories, which I will always have.

...but I need to get it out of my system somewhere. I'm fucking terrified and depressed...not so much about getting sick, but what this is doing to the world, especially mine. This past year has been scarey for me anyway - I'm coming up on 50 in a year and a half, and I have no career to speak of. For a while there, I was doing pretty well in my own circles, but the Who fandom has shifted (as it does from time to time), and the cons I used to guest at regularly have gone with way of the dodo. I've been finding the odd uke venue, and the cosplay cabarets are great to get out the jones, but there's nothing I can think of as work, even when I am stretching the definition. Even writing for the website - thank goodness I have that, but it's unpaid, and doesn't feed my soul the way performing does. It's not like I was even close to getting people related to me to see my performing existence as anything remotely real.

Lord knows this isn't about me - I think everyone feels this way, and in many cases, way more than I do. This whole quarantine thing is like clinical depression on a global scale. We all seem to be going from fits of productivity to slumps of bone-crushing depression. And I have to keep my brave face on for the kiddo (when I'm not fighting with her about the need to do schoolwork at home, plus trying to soothe the anxiety she is having from this), and it's exhausting. And when we come back, whenever that is - what happens then?

This reminds me of when, in 2001, the director of operations at Jekyll & Hyde announced to the rest of his staff at a morning meeting that he would be hiring me and another guy, after I had applied months previous. 5 minutes after he said that, a plane flew into the World Trade Center. Needless to say, I didn't get hired for at least another year after that - and the entertainment industry only went dark for like a DAY then. Everything is shut down for the foreseeable. Normally, I get out my performing jones by posting things online. At the moment, however, absolutely EVERYONE is doing that. Everyone is already busy watching videos from people with already established careers, so why on earth should anyone give a shit about mine? And when the industry finally does come back, it will be in baby steps, and it will be saturated with the aforementioned previously established people, with even less room for people like me than usual. Of course this is bigger than me, and I have got it better than many, and I shouldn't bitch. But if not here, then where?

It's an extra kick in the teeth to a late bloomer like me. It's like, timeline:
1) There's nothing out there for me, so I stop trying.
2) There IS something out there that could be perfect for me - I immediately start trying again (new headshots, going on EPAs).
3) Turns out I am shut out of that thing too, because of physical type.
4) I get depressed for a week but then rally, and get another EPA for the thing because life goes on.
5) The EPA (and all other things) get cancelled for the foreseeable.

And yes, when this mishegoss is over, things WILL get rescheduled, and I WILL keep going - but, you wanna talk about biological clocks? Ain't nobody going to look twice at a medium-sized, white alto like me, no matter how cool and talented I am (and I am very both those things). There's always going to be someone who gets to push ahead of me in line.

I've been saying for a while now that I will blog about this whole experience. Took me a while, to see if the compulsion to talk about it endured, and it has. Here's the backstory of the thing itself - A was doing a local production of The Lion In Winter. I hadn't auditioned - I'm too young for Eleanor, and too old and not right for the French Princess. Fate decided to get in there and be weird, I guess - the original actress playing the princess had a fall, hit her head, and, while she's thankfully fine now, and wasn't able to do the show, and this was two weeks before they opened. I said something like, "I'm sure I'm too old and inappropriate for an ingenue, but jumping into a show 2 weeks out doesn't scare me - I went to French Woods, after all, the home of the microwave musical." So A called his director, who presumably stalked my Facebook a bit (I know I would have done), and had me come in to meet the cast and read. I met the lovely man playing Henry (who really looks more like Mr Wednesday than anyone should be allowed to do), we talked a bit, read a bit, and the director offered me the role right there.

This was right before we broke for Memorial Day, and A helped me by spending the weekend running lines with me. Not going to lie, I was a bit terrified going in - I haven't done legitimate theatre in over a decade. And I had seen photos of the stunningly beautiful girl whom I was replacing, and that was intimidating. Once I got in there, though, it was all okay - the rest of the cast, particularly Henry, my primary scene partner, were wonderful and embracing of me, running lines whenever I needed, and they were all immensely talented, so I had lots to work with.

I had never played a role like Alais Capet, and I don't imagine I will do again - she's a princess, 23 years old and beautiful. Clever, but very sweet. Not my usual Rizzo, you know? By a happy coincidence, the costumes they had gotten for the original girl fit me perfectly. It may not seem like a big deal, bit it is. No one, in my life, has ever seen me that way. I'm always the brassy dame, the character role who is funny or sexy - never "pretty". This was an entirely different world, in which defaulting to the dick joke was in no way my job. And since no one apart from A knew me, there weren't any preconceived notions of type to overcome. Seriously - I wasn't comfortable trying to be the pretty girl at my own WEDDING. It felt like a joke, like I shouldn't want to look like a fairy princess on that day, and I wouldn't be able to, no matter how great the dress was (and it was).

I had been struggling for the past while with gender identity and what it meant, and had finally landed on "genderqueer female" as a thing that worked for me, but with this - I HAD to use all those buried "girl" aspects of myself, that I usually repress (and indeed, had learned to exist without) because I have never felt entitled to them. But for this, they were what was required, and I would be lying if I didn't say I gloried in them. Every time our brilliant director D would tell me NOT to pitch my voice up, I wanted to hug her. I don't normally get Soprano Envy (except with Music Man, oddly enough - but I think that's only because I have always wanted to sing "Lida Rose" with a barbershop quartet), but the world of musical theatre does largely conform to vocal type, and I can fake mezzo if I have to, but that's as high as it goes, so that limits me to the types of characters they normally write for altos. Disney does a number on your head when you are a chubby, brown-haired alto growing up. The gift of beauty? Naturally blonde hair. The gift of song? Coloratura soprano. Fuck you, Disney. Okay, girls like me can't be princesses. So I was scared going in, that I would seem laughable. Now, let's be real - 2 weeks out, I am sure they were happy for a warm body who could say the lines in the right order. But I got in there (off book in 5 days), and I think showed them I actually had some game too.

I don't know if I'll ever get this kind of thing again. Even the parts where I had no lines, and was on stage with the rest of them sometimes being talked about - I loved inhabiting her. Just standing there, in it, listening to every word everyone else said, feeling what she would feel about it. And pretty? I got to wear my great blonde wig, they gown they had gotten was princess-y and flattering, and she knew she was pretty, so I knew it too. I loved being madly in love with Henry for those few hours a night. One other great thing I got to take away from this was proof that, contrary to pretty much all my previous experiences, there is actually some really good local theatre out there (I'm sure there always was - I just hadn't experienced any of it personally), and bet your ass I will stalk the director and anyone else connected to this production, and audition for them in future - and I won't talk or type myself out of it right off the bat the way I normally do. I think this has made me braver than I used to be (or had been for a long time). And while I don't kid myself that my performance was perfect or extraordinary, or that the girl who was cast in the first place wouldn't have simply been better, I feel proud of the work and what I was able to bring to the team.

This is as good a topic as any to start off my relationship with Dreamwidth (thank you R for helping me do the thing and move over here). I don't know how often I'll be arsed to actually post, but better here than LJ. Okay, so Sweeney Todd (the interactive one currently running off-Broadway) - thoughts in no particular order. Remember, this is me being a big persnickety snob, as I unashamedly am regarding this show.

I liked this production, and thought it was fun. Overall. It is a cute premise to have Sweeney Todd up in your face, and the meat pies were yummy (Gracie VASTLY approved of the mashed potatoes). If you have a bad back, bad joints, or are uncomfortable sitting without back support, this is NOT the production for you, though. We sat up in the mezzanine, so we had fewer actors in our space, and I kind of appreciated that, tbh (they did occasionally send someone upstairs to visit us - most of the time, it was the terribly pregnant Betsy Morgan, who not only gets mad props for NOT sounding like Darth Vader the way I did when I was pregnant and tried to sing, but easily had the most physical job to do, playing both the Beggar Woman and Pirelli, thus getting killed twice). I kept thinking that I, the afraid-of-heights person, would have lasted about five minutes in this production, with all the standing on chairs, walking on narrow tables, and most of that in relatively dim light. The whole beginning of the show, I kept thinking "attend the tale of ENORMOUS FIRE HAZARD", since a lot of it is lit mostly by candlelight. Presumably, they had many many fire extinguishers hidden everywhere.

I thought that having such a small cast would thin out the score, and was pleasantly surprised that this was not the case. That said, the musical director made some REALLY weird choices here and there, having actors NOT crescendo in places where they obviously needed to, and making some weird-ass cuts. Cutting a verse of "Priest" for no reason? WTF? Having the letter read, not sung, especially in such a perfect environment for the letter to be done properly? NO. I could accept the cutting of most of "City on Fire" in such a small space, with such a small cast - but the other cuts? Why? And they left in the Judge's song, which I respect on principle since it never gets done, but sadly, this was the most jolly, least creepy Judge I have ever seen in my life. Like, don't do the song if you're not going to do it justice, and he really didn't. Alex kept equating him to Kazran Sardik - or, for you non-Whovians, I kept thinking, shouldn't you be off playing Ben Franklin in 1776 somewhere? He was just so very jolly. Nice voice, but very jolly.

Sweeney was okay. He was more shouty than I like, and he kept making these dramatic pauses at big moments that went on WAY too long (seriously, like freeze-frames, if this had been on video, I would have thought the video had frozen), and he was so busy connecting with the audience that he and Mrs Lovett didn't connect with each other AT ALL. They didn't do the pose at the end of act 1, and they needed to - it was clear that the director wanted to find a way to do it without the iconic pose, but dude - unless you have something really relevant to replace it, you leave the fucking pose (ask me some time about the Sweeney/Mrs L relationship I want to see, that plays up the sex as well as the violence, since they are banging each other by act 2, so "Priest" really should be foreplay, and this way, you can totally replace the pose). Re Mrs Lovett - I wanted to like her, I really did. Yes, I am even more persnickety about this role than I am about the rest of the show, but I really tried. It didn't help her any that her voice was trashed, and she was struggling vocally the whole time (DON'T BELT THE WHOLE ROLE, BABE) - I could tell that she had spent way too much time belting, and was now paying for it with lack of head voice, and her problem was that a lot of the role sat right on her break, and if you aren't really using your transfer the way Angela did, it isn't going to work (and I still want to punch Patti Lupone in the head for making people think that Mrs Lovett is a belter role, when SHE IS NOT, LISTEN TO THE MUSIC, IT IS MEANT TO CHANGE AND VARY, FFS. Vocally aside...she was basically all schtick, and no substance - full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. This works if you are in a penny dreadful where no one is expecting the characters to have any depth, but Sweeney has real characters, with real intentions, who need to be more than simply surface. And the fact that she wasn't like this was even more noticeable when this Johanna was fucking AMAZING, and acting her ass off, and not in the caricature way she is normally played by actresses who make the effort - Alex Finke made her a real person (and hers was the perfect soprano voice - not too sweet, not too shrill). Never in my life would I ever have thought that the actors I wanted to stagedoor and tweet later to praise would be the Anthony and Johanna, but there you go (Gracie is also madly in love with Matt Doyle, who in my opinion is an absolutely worthy first actor-crush - he shook her hand and introduced himself afterwards, and she floated home, giggling like Marcia Brady when she met Davy Jones). Just blown away by those two, especially her.

The staging and the direction started out as very clever (silverware percussion was kind of cool at first), but in act 2, it began to deteriorate from "cool and conceptual" into "community theatre using a church basement". I honestly have no idea exactly how Mrs Lovett was actually killed, since they had previously established the ovens as being in one place, and then when he killed her, it was somewhere else. The set also had Sweeney facing upstage for really important bits like the Lucy reveal and his own death (WEAK) - and he kept leaving the stage during "Johanna" (act 2), so some of his lines were lost. He was definitely scarey when he wanted to be - him coming for Johanna at the end when she's in disguise was awesome. The steam whistle was used too much, and in weird places - and NOT when Sweeney was killed. They also cut the part with Tobias and the meat grinder (where he finds the fingernail etc), and without knowing that he sees the freshly-killed Beadle etc, him going crazy at the end didn't really make sense. MASSIVE props to the fight director - all the violence was EXCELLENT. Mrs Lovett finishing off the Judge by choking him? Pirelli being knocked out by headslams on one of the tables? Yes please.

I think I may be running out of thoughts now, or just getting bored. Again, it was a fun production, and will probably be even better with the new 2 leads (Norm Lewis!). Go see it if you can.

20 children, because some sick shit had issues with his own mom.
Mayans, be right. Just end a world where this shit happens.

So Sunday, after a lovely brunch, I was suddenly stricken with stomach pains. I thought they were going to be the kind that passed, but after a nap at home, they didn't. They were so grouchy that I didn't sleep well Sunday night. Finally, Monday, pain still persisting, I got Julie to come wait for Gracie's school bus, and Alex took me to the emergency room. Skip past long wait/shift change (he had to leave for work, and once my sister heard I was in the ER, she came right down), I had appendicitis. It hadn't ruptured or anything, but they were going to need to take it out asap.

I was admitted, and the cool part was that they were so on top of it, that I went straight from the ER to the OR with very little waiting. Beth, who is a world-class patient advocate btw, arranged with my mom for mom to stay with Gracie at my house, and get her off to school the next morning. She called so that Gracie could talk to me right before I went into the OR, and mom later said that once she talked to me, Gracie was fine.

So apparently while I was on the table, here's what happened. They went in laparascopically (or however you spell that), and it turned out that my appendix HAD ruptured after all. Apparently while it was doing its thing and getting ready to burst, it did so in some out-of-the-way area of my insides, so I didn't get the acute pain that normally goes with an angry appendix. This of course is a good thing for me, but a pain in the ass for the surgeon, who, rather than open me up the regular way to deal with a ruptured appendix, stuck with the laparoscopy to clean me out. The surgery thus took an hour longer than expected, and I had to stay in hospital an extra day.

The time in hospital was as well as could be expected. Mostly I slept (well, dozed...it is difficult to actually sleep in hospital, with things beeping and your roommate either having extremely loud visitors or puking). My sister had been thoughtful enough to bring both my laptop and my chargers, so I was able to read all the lovely messages folk had left for me (it helped). Rob, bless him, came up the second afternoon, and stayed overnight with Gracie. The worst part of this whole thing (aside from the not being able to eat solids) is the headache that comes with it - I have given up on the codeine I was given and have been sticking with the migraine meds I had from before, which seem to help with the belly too. I got visitors (Beth, mom, Alex, Julie, Michael, Jonna), through whom I mostly slept. My mom would've brought Gracie by so I could put on a good face for her, but she didn't want to come to the hospital (scared, I think), and preferred to talk to me on the phone, and I was fine with that.

Anyway, I was allowed to come home yesterday (Wednesday). Alex came over immediately - this whole thing had happened over our 6-month anniversary, dammit, and while we didn't have a lot planned, it was a bummer of a way to spend it. We did hang out in the bed and watch I, Claudius, but really it was him watching it while I dozed (not like I can't recite practically the whole thing, but still). Gracie's face when she saw me standing in the doorway as the schoolbus dropped her off was a thing of joy to behold.

This morning, I got up and got Gracie off to school as usual, then went back to bed for most of the day. Rob came back and was a huge help, including an errand to the drugstore and taking out the trash for me. I was allowed to take a shower and change my bandage, though not eat anything interesting yet. I am bored, which I take as a sign I must be getting better.

The freaky thing of all of this is, since my appendix decided to do its thing in such a weird way, I never got that awful awful pain, and it is just that I am enough of a stickler about my health that I was paranoid enough to go in to the ER - if I wasn't that paranoid, I might not have gone in, and then it would have ruptured, the pain would have briefly gotten better, and then - gah. Best not to think about it, and I'm really not. Mostly I'm hardcore resting and trying to not fret about getting better fast enough - I have shit to DO this week, dammit, and Philly Comic Con on Friday. Life to get back to.

Told him how old I am (he had already done the math, but I needed to have it out there).
He loves me anyway.
Not that we ever thought he wouldn't, but it was kind of a thing.
He said, "what can I say? You're awesome, and I'm enlightened."
For which he got smooched in a big way.
I'm sure you've seen this picture already, but I'm reposting it because it makes me happy.

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Mostly I get Helena Bonham Carter, and lately Alex Kingston (It's probably the hair and River 'tude). My fella thinks I look like a hybrid of the two, which is why he's my fella.

...and last night. I'm going to assume it is something physical, since nothing is actually wrong, everything on my body hurts, and I suddenly feel insecure about my haircut.

That said, Gracie is acting out what seems to be an episode of Eastenders with two adipose dolls. They are calling each other "sweetheart".

So that makes life okay. :)